


Ma Emma Lath

by Lady_Eglantine



Series: Ellana Lavellan [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 34,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4922983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Eglantine/pseuds/Lady_Eglantine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets and prompts (in no chronological order) focused on Blackwall and Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan.</p><p>Rated E for smut in -7-, -12-, -26-, -28-, and -33-.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cephalalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Cephalalgia - headache

-1-

The first thing Ellana felt was a slight throb above the bridge of her nose. She didn’t have time to think much of it. They had rifts and Venatori to take care of. Only when they began to move out to find someplace to make camp for the night had it worsened, leaving her feeling as if her forehead was being squeezed and a herd of druffalo stampeding through her head. She had had headaches like this frequently as a child, but they became less frequent and less crippling as she got older, though she did still get the severe ones from time to time. While there was a potion she could make that helped to alleviate the symptoms a bit when her chewing bark didn’t work, she didn’t have nearly half the ingredients she needed and out in the Hissing Wastes, she wasn’t likely to find them.

The next best thing she had found was to sit somewhat upright and lean her head back against something solid. But that wasn’t an option while riding and even once they made camp, the tents were not sturdy enough for her to press her head against.

Cassandra was the first to notice her clutching at her head, asking concernedly if she was alright, if a demon or Venatori had struck it. Ellana told her she’d be fine, just a headache (one determined to make her feel as miserable as possible, but a headache nonetheless). Cassandra didn’t look entirely pacified, but she thankfully dropped the issue.

Ellana couldn’t have been more relieved when they finally stopped. Their makeshift campsite was a little too exposed and would require at least one person on watch, but it had a good vantage point (she’d have to remember to tell one of the scouts at the other camps to look into establishing a more permanent camp there). And it was their only option, all of them (including the horses) too tired to carry on further.

By the time the tents were set up, horses secured, a fire along with dinner prepared (the August Ram they had encountered nearby made do for a stew), her head was throbbing unbearably. It was only a matter of time before someone else noticed how quiet she was being, how she kept hopelessly rubbing at her forehead.

“You’ve barely touched your food, my lady.”

Or that she wasn’t eating, that too.

She slowly looked up at Blackwall standing above her. “Not very hungry right now.”

He wasted no time plopping down beside her. “Cassandra told me about your headache.”

Of course Cassandra would have said something to him. No point in denying anything now. “It’s gotten worse.”

He shifted closer to her so their sides were almost touching. “Do you want to go lie down?” he murmured near her ear, softly enough that Cassandra and Varric did not hear. Not that they would have, anyway. Being far enough away and caught up in what sounded like a discussion (or on Cassandra’s end, passionate argument) of some events in _Swords and Shields_.

She was about to tell Blackwall that while she appreciated the concern (beyond words), that nothing could be done but to wait it out (that lying down usually didn’t do much), she recalled her mother and even her sister would act as living head rests for her when she had had really bad bouts. Maybe it could work with him. His gambeson was certainly soft enough to lay her head on. 

“Helps to prop my head upright against something.”

She could see in Blackwall’s eyes that he caught her meaning. She was just going to try to rest her head against one of his shoulders or even his back if they were still a little tender from the injuries sustained battling Erimond and the possessed Grey Wardens back on the Western Approach. Though she knew how affectionate he could be, she also knew how private he was in showing it.

Which is why she did not expect him to gently pull her towards him, guiding her body so she was settled between his legs, propped up with the back of her head resting against his chest.

“Better?” he asked, one of his arms curling itself around her and securing her against him.

Ellana breathed a small sigh of contentment, sinking deeper into him and closing her eyes as he began to gently rub his thumb against the side of her forehead, his embrace and touch helping to soothe her in a way that even the strongest potion couldn’t.

“Better.”


	2. Late at Night

-2-

Ellana climbed the long winding steps up to her quarters, a fresh wave of fatigue hitting her with every step. And Josephine’s beautifully scrawled notes in her hands quick to remind her that the night wasn't over. Letters had to go out the next morning with the runners.

She opened the final door, expecting to come into a dark room with only the light from the half-moon to guide her. But even before reaching the top landing, she could make out the soft light flooding the room from the fireplace. Once at the top, she immediately spotted the person behind lighting the fire, seated on the chaise she had moved in front of the fireplace when the days and nights started getting colder. She made to say something, but the words died in her throat when she heard his snoring.

She tiptoed over to Blackwall, careful not to bump up against him. Only in his shirt he wore under his gambeson (which was draped over the far arm), trousers and wool socks, he was propped up against the chaise, head tilted backward and mouth slightly agape, a small bit of drool collecting underneath in his beard.

The fact he hadn’t even woken up when she stepped on the creaky wood landing told her how worn out he must have been from a long first day back helping Cullen train recruits (though she had made Blackwall promise just to observe, no hands-on demonstrations, not after just recovering from a fever). She hated to wake him, but he’d have a horrible crick in his neck come morning sleeping like that.

She laid her hand gently on his shoulder, giving him a nudge. He grumbled something indiscernible in reply, but he still did not waken. She carefully set herself beside him, pressing Josephine’s notes against her chest so she could comb her fingers through the side of his beard. “Blackwall. Blackwall, wake up.”

He finally awoke with a startled snort, but it still took him a moment to be coherent enough to register who had woken him.

"My lady," he greeted while wiping the back of his hand against the wet spot on his beard. "How long have you been back?"

"Just now. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I really hoped tonight wouldn't be a late night."

"It's alright."

She smiled as he reached to tuck the strands of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad. Was able to stand and move around a fair bit til I had to sit rest of the time. And appetite's come back a bit."

She laid her hand over his forehead. "A tad warm. But that's probably from being near the fire. I'll give you another dose of potion tomorrow, just in case. Don't need you to relap-"

Blackwall cut her off upon having leaned forward and captured her lips with his, his hand journeying behind her head to tangle itself in her hair. She laid a steadying hand against his chest, emitting a pleased sigh against his lips. She hadn't kissed Blackwall ( _really_ kissed him) in what felt like so long. But as much as she wished to get lost in his slow kiss, she eventually forced herself to pull away.

"I still have work to do," she said apologetically, standing up. Sadly, the letters weren't going to write themselves (when the world wasn't being thrown into chaos, maybe her and Dorian could work on developing a spell for that).

"I'll wait up for you, then."

"That's alright, vhenan. Why don't you go to bed? You look tired."

Blackwall brushed away her concern with a wave of his hand. "I'm fine, love. I can make it."

Though she wasn’t entirely sure she believed that, given how he didn’t wake at her immediate touch when it usually didn’t take much, she wasn’t going to fight him on it. At least not yet.

Ellana went over to her desk, placing the papers down in the center. She heard Blackwall pick up his carving knife and wood block from the floor that he had likely dropped earlier when he had fallen asleep as she pulled the chair back and sat down. She summoned a brief flame to her hand, hovering over the wick of the candle situated on her desk, providing her with enough light to see what she was doing between that and the fireplace. She reached for her quill with its worn feather and ink bottle and retrieved fresh parchment from her desk. At least Josephine had assured her this latest batch could be relatively short and sweet.

Neither of them said anything as she worked, the only sounds in the room the occasional cracking of the firewood, Blackwall's knife against wood and the scratching of her quill. She was about to start on the sixth letter when she noticed that the sound of metal on wood had ceased. She glanced up to see Blackwall's head tucked in towards his chest, partly-carved wood and knife in his lap. She couldn't precisely tell from the angle she was at, but she could take a pretty good guess he was asleep again. Only confirmed when he didn't respond to the call of his name.

Setting her quill down, she made her way back over to him. This time, though, a gentle shake was enough to jolt him awake. "Just resting my eyes."

She squeezed his shoulder, waiting until he was more aware before she said anything more. "I won't be offended if you can't make it. You're just getting better."

He shook his head. "I'm good," he insisted. "Think that little bit helped."

She crossed her arms, studying him skeptically with a cock of her head. "You'll be asleep again within fifteen minutes."

"That sounds like a wager to me, Ana."

"You know I never bet, vhenan," she said with a laugh as she straightened up.

"Shame,” he said, adopting a slight roguish drawl. “I just thought of some good stakes both of us could have put down."

As much as the idea tempted her, neither of them were in the state to engage in that type of activity.

"Another night," she said, still giving him a glimpse of a flirtatious smile (Dorian would have been proud to see how much easier she wore it now, after the amount of time he had put into coaching her how to).

She went back to her desk and resumed writing the sixth letter. And to Blackwall's credit, he actually made it until she started on the ninth one. She woke him up again and he assured her he could last again. But by the eleventh, he wasn't the only one resisting sleep, Ellana finding herself yawning and her own eyes desiring to close. Until she heard the thunk of Blackwall's knife and carving hitting the floor as he curled up onto his side.

Knowing she'd never get him awake enough to undress and get into bed now, she got up to retrieve the spare blanket she had laid across the bed on nights when it was still too cold. She walked around the chaise, draping the blanket over Blackwall. She then crouched down to retrieve the knife and the in-progress carving of what looked to be some type of bird and chanced brushing a kiss against his brow. She made to head back to her desk for the third time when she felt something grab onto her hand. She glanced down to see Blackwall blearily staring up at her.

"I can't make it," he murmured.

"I know. It's alright." She squeezed his hand. "Go back to sleep."

But he did not let go when she made to pull away, giving her hand the tiniest of tugs as if to pull her closer instead (and how tempted she was to give in, to the inviting warmth of the fire and to lay down with his arms around her).

"Missed spending time with you, my lady," he said, his words slurring as his eyes closed again, unable to fight sleep anymore. "Really wanted to."

The raw need she caught in his voice kept her feet rooted to the floor, even as he let go of her hand, a need that echoed her own. She had missed spending time with him too. While he had been sick, she had been by his side as much as she could, but he hadn't been with it most of the time. And even though the worst had passed and he was up and moving, he still wasn't in peak fighting or traveling shape. Unless he felt completely well again in the next two days, he likely wouldn't be coming with her and Bull to meet the Ben-Hassrath contact on the Storm Coast.

Ellana glanced back and forth with weary eyes between her desk, at the finished letters and the blank parchment reserved for the ones she still had to write, and Blackwall's resting form until she finally went over to her desk.

Dousing the candle and setting down his carving and knife, she walked back to the chaise and proceeded to carefully position herself beside Blackwall so she didn't end up falling over the edge come morning and they were both under the blanket. She thought she had successfully settled herself comfortably enough without disturbing him, but she then felt his arms circle her waist and his nose nuzzle her hair. Though he didn't say anything, she could feel the curl of his contented smile pressed against her head as she finally allowed her eyes to drift closed.

The rest of the letters could wait.


	3. Resolve

-3-

This certainly wasn’t the first time it happened. But it was the worst hit in awhile.

Ellana had thought she had been doing better, able to keep herself from getting too blindsided, from being too sluggish. But the Red Templar came at her out of nowhere.

The blow to the shoulder had sent her careening to the ground, vision blackening as her head struck a rock. The rest of the battle had passed in a haze, blurry figures fighting above her, the muffled cries of her companions (particularly that of Blackwall's) rattling around in her head. Once the last of the Red Templars was slain and it was determined they could head out, she had been too dazed to get up and walk on her own, needing to lean on Blackwall until they had made it to the nearest camp.

Now, a few hours later, she was left with dizziness, a ferocious headache, and a pounding shoulder (but miraculously not dislocated) and small gash near her right temple to match.

She slowly turned her head (even that simple motion made the tent walls start to spin a bit) to face Blackwall beside her, who was sitting upright in his shirt (having generously loaned his gambeson as a raised pillow for her shoulder) and trousers and staring at the tied closed tent flaps in deep contemplation. He hadn't said much since they had gotten back to camp, but Ellana could feel the waves of tension radiating off of him.

She reached out her hand, laying it on top of the one pressing into the bedroll. He jumped, as if he had no idea where the contact came from, until he looked down and found the source.

"I thought you'd gone to sleep."

"Sadly still awake." She stroked her thumb over a scar right under one of his knuckles. "You seem distracted. Are you alright?"

She expected him to say "yes," play it off as if he was, or tell her she shouldn't be asking that when she was the one who had been injured, but then he said in such a soft voice that her ears strained to hear, "You scared me, Ana."

"I know." She had not forgotten the thinly veiled fear in his voice when he first knelt down beside her to check if she was alright. She lifted his hand and kissed the top, as he had done so many times with hers. "Ir abelas, vhenan."

"Not your fault." His other hand reached over, a knuckle brushing over the gauze covering the injury on her head. " _I_ should have been there faster."

She squeezed the hand still in hers. "You can't be everywhere."

He didn't say anything to that, instead stroking along her cheek (Ellana figured he wouldn't let go of the blame he put on himself that easily).

"I wish you'd wear some kind of armor, my lady," he finally said. "At the very least, a helmet. It would help soften blows."

"You know it makes me feel hindered. Especially the helmet. And Solas and Sera seemed to do alright without." She let out a frustrated puff of air. "I really thought I was getting better."

"Being caught off guard happens to all of us. And you _have_ gotten better."

"Maybe," she conceded, though she wasn't entirely convinced she had gotten through many of their skirmishes injury-free beyond luck. "But I'm still not as good as them. Or especially you."

"I'm flattered," he said with a slight rise of his mustache in a small smile. "But it still took me years of training and being in many battles."

And unless Corypheus was planning to drag this whole ordeal out, she doubted she'd have the luxury of gaining years of experience. She suspected that no matter how hard she worked at it, this was always going to be a struggle. Learning more effective spells and casting spells was the easy part...casting spells while trying to hit moving persons or creatures and making sure she didn't also get hit, on the other hand...she just didn't have a knack for this.

Not like her sister, Ellana thought with a sudden wave of sadness. Bri would have been so much better suited for this. Ellana remembered the times she had watched Bri train or on a hunt, shooting arrow after arrow so seamlessly, as if the bow was practically a part of her body, able to jump and dart and parry while wielding a dagger (all those years of dancing and climbing trees had served Bri well). With her skill, it was only a matter of time until she became one of the clan’s best (and youngest) hunters. She could have easily still been that. She could have easily fought by Ellana's side, not intent on being separated from her older sister for long when Ellana needed help and support.

But instead... _Creators_ , instead...

"Ana? What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

Fenedhis, she had to better control her facial expressions. Ellana wasn't ready, or in the frame of mind, to talk about _that_ with him.

"I'm fine, Blackwall. It's nothing. Just feeling tired," she said, trying to steady her voice so it didn't come out in a wobble. And it wasn't entirely a lie. Injuries aside, it had been a long day. "Think I'm going to try to go to sleep."

Blackwall made to pull away, but her hand grabbed at his forearm, preventing him from doing so. She wordlessly tugged him down to her, wanting to stay close to him. He readily compiled, getting in a quick kiss to her forehead as he settled down beside her, both arms enfolding her in his warm embrace.

But she still found herself unable to fall asleep, still too wired despite her fatigue. She pushed the grim memories of her sister away, instead thinking about what Blackwall had said, replaying the Red Templar's attack over and over in her mind. Eventually reminding herself that whether or not she had a knack for fighting, whether or not it would be a constant struggle, didn't matter. Like it or not, she was the Inquisitor. She was the one with the special glowing mark on her hand. Fighting was part of her life now. There was no avoiding that.

Reaching a decision, she resolved to look into getting armor added and to talk to the mage combat specialists again once they got back to Skyhold.

And before she finally drifted asleep to the sound of Blackwall's deep breathing by her ear, she resolved to try and do better.

She _had_ to do better.


	4. Never Regret

-4-

If Blackwall kept up the pace he was at, he'd be ready to start working on the rockers again. Given the amount of time he had worked on the griffon rocker since settling in the barn after their arrival at Skyhold, he was proud of how far he had come on it.  

But he'd likely have to call it a night soon. Though the light from the fire pit and lantern helped, his eyes weren't what they used to be and he had started to feel the strain behind them.

Just as he was about to start smoothing out a rough edge, his ears perked up at approaching footsteps near the entrance of the barn. He looked up, smiling when he saw Ellana incoming from the wind-driven snow outside the barn, cheeks and nose red as a ripe tomato.

"Looks like it's starting to pick up out there," he noted.

"Amazing how quickly it seemed to move in," Ellana said as she gave a brief shake of her hair to get the snowflakes out.

Setting down his tools and turning to properly face her, his hands automatically went to her hips as she neared him, pulling her closer as he leaned down to kiss her in greeting.

"Your lips are freezing," he noted as he pulled away.

“Sera insisted on some roof time until it started snowing. Then I bumped into Cullen on the way here. Not sure how long we talked."

"Explains why your face's so red." Blackwall removed one of his gloves, fingers brushing against her face to feel how cold it was.

"Your hand's so warm," she said, nuzzling his hand as it cupped her cheek, seeming to soak in the warmth of his palm.

"Gloves do a good job. And the lantern and fire help."

Ellana then pulled away from him to go and sit by the fire pit, lowering herself down on one of the mats, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire. She glanced back over at Blackwall, patting the spare area of the mat beside her as if in invitation.

Taking her up on it, he came and sat down, curling an arm around her. "I missed you at supper."

She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I wasn't able to go. Josephine did bring me something," she added, seemingly spotting the look of concern on his face.

"Going over more preparations for Halamshiral?"

She shook her head against his shoulder. "A letter from Keeper Deshanna came this afternoon."

He picked up on the worry in her voice. "Not good news, I take it?"

"The nobles are blaming my clan and the city elves for a disease in Wycome that's only making humans sick. She's concerned there's going to be violence and asked for my help. But I'm not sure what to do."

"Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine didn't have ideas?"

"No, they did. Cullen thinks Inquisition troops need to be sent in because of the nobles using red lyrium. But Leliana thinks having her scouts get my clan's hunters into the city to join up with a resistance group would be a better idea. At first, I thought I'd go with Leliana's plan, but after talking to Cullen again...I just don't know, vhenan."

He squeezed her in reassurance. "How large are Wycome's forces?"

"Apparently it's been difficult to get an accurate estimate. Reports are conflicting and Keeper Deshanna didn't say. I don't know that I feel comfortable authorizing a siege without having a clearer idea." She sighed wearily, the weight of the discussion clearly pressing down on her. "I know my clan's hunters. If anyone could succeed, they could...but if it isn't enough, if they fail...theirs and the rest of the clan's deaths could be on my hands. Not to mention any innocents caught in between..."

Breaking away from him, she stood up and paced in front of the pit, agitation growing with each step. "I can't even imagine what Keeper Deshanna's going through right now, how she's handling all of this. The pressure that must be on her, keeping the clan safe. Course she was always worried about that, but there's such a real threat now."

Ellana stopped, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a wooden circular token with a halla carved into it that once belonged to her sister, which Ellana always seemed to have on her. Which she would always seemed to fiddle with whenever deeply troubled or conflicted about something, as if somehow her deceased sister would come to her and give her guidance or comfort.

He watched as she twirled it around her fingers. "If anything happens to them because I made the wrong decision..." Even from where he was on the floor, he could see the white of her knuckles as her fingers tightly clenched onto the token. "I can't..."

He wished he could tell her everything would work out, that everything would be alright. But he had no way of knowing how this would turn out. However nice and assuring it'd sound, it wouldn't be enough to pacify her. So he did the only other thing he thought he could.

With a creak of his knees, he got up off the mat, striding over to Ellana and enfolding her in his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head. She was still a moment until he felt her relax against him, turning to wrap both arms around his waist. In turn, one of his hands kept her head pressed against the crook of his neck while the other rubbed calming circles into the tense muscles between her shoulder blades.

He sometimes wondered if she missed being back with her clan more than she let on. Though she had only talked a little about them (and he hadn't gone out of his way to ask for fear of being presented with similar probing questions about those in his past life), she had spoken fondly of those she had mentioned. And of their Keeper, who Ellana had once said was like a second mother to her. Which is why he found it curious Ellana had rarely talked about her either. He wondered if perhaps part of that may have had to do with him. Ellana had never said anything about mentioning their relationship in any of her correspondence to her Keeper. He could only hope her being with him wasn't setting up for a possible conflict she was trying to put off.

"I want to go and help them myself," she said, breaking the silence, voice muffled in his neck. "But I know Keeper Deshanna would send me back the minute I arrived. She'd say my place was here."

The question escaped him before he could stop it. "Would you rather you hadn't gone to the Conclave, Ana?"

She pulled her head away from his neck, staring up at him intently with those piercing eyes of hers before she softly said, “At times I did. I never asked to be the Herald. Never asked to be the Inquisitor."

She unwrapped her left arm from his waist so she could hold her hand up to her face, the faint light green glow of the mark sparking. "I certainly never asked for this mark on my hand."

Which, to his surprise, then cupped his cheek. "But if I had stayed with my clan, I never would have met you. I can _never_ regret leaving when I have you."

His heart sunk at her words, knowing he didn't deserve them. More than ever, he wished he could be a man worthy of such a declaration. But the selfish bastard he was, he wanted, _needed_ , to continue accepting everything she offered (he had utterly failed when he had tried to deny himself this before). And he would continue to give what he could to her. Starting right there, taking her wrist in hand and leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss he hoped would convey just how much she meant to him.

She eagerly reciprocated, her lips warmer than before, parting to allow her tongue room to slide past his lips. Her other hand fisted into the padding of his gambeson, then journeyed to the back of his neck, giving the slightest press to push him closer. He could have easily (and gladly) lost himself in the kiss if not for the powerful gust of wind-driven snow that managed to reach them further in the barn.

"Fenedhis!" Ellana exclaimed, shivering as she pulled away. "So much for Skyhold being protected from the worst of the cold and snow."

"Perhaps it's time to retreat to your quarters," he said. The sharp gust of wind had cut through him too.

"We'll light a fire. That should help."

He went over and doused the lantern on his bench (no sense in risking starting an unintentional fire). He made his way back to her, his hands landing on her shoulders then running them up and down her arms to keep them warm.

"I may also have another idea or two to keep the cold away," he said, half-playful, half-serious. The feel of her warming lips against his hadn't entirely left him. "If you're interested."

A faint smile appeared on her face. "I think I'd definitely be interested in hearing more."

He chuckled, putting his arm back around her. "Gladly, my lady."

They left the barn, sheltering each other from the elements on their walk to the kitchen entrance, Blackwall determined to do what he could to keep that smile on her face. To make it grow. To help lessen the weight on her from the heavy choice she would eventually have to make.


	5. Pet Names

-5-

“Can I ask you something, my lady?”

Ellana picked up her head from the book she had had her nose stuck in the past half hour. Some book on magical theory Dorian had found in the library Blackwall couldn’t even begin to understand.

“What’s on your mind, vhenan?”

"That, actually. That word. You've been using it a fair bit the last few days." Specifically since they officially began a relationship only three days ago. "What does it mean exactly?"

Ellana set her book down beside her. "It's an endearment many Dalish couples use with each other. The closest translation is "heart." The more common version is ma vhenan, "my heart," but when my father was still alive, I remember him and my mam calling each other vhenan." She then bit her lip, casting her eyes down as she said, "I can stop if you don't..."

He stopped her from finishing that line of thought, reaching for her fiddling hands in her lap. "I don't mind. At all."

Not only was he touched she'd use such an endearment towards him, he couldn't deny also feeling a sense of relief. That allowed her to call him something more personal without having to provide his given name. He hoped she'd remain satisfied with that. She hadn't asked for it yet so perhaps that was a good sign. He didn't want to add another lie or half-truth on top of the ones he had already told her.

He rubbed at the knuckles across her left hand, the hand with the Mark many believed blessed Andraste had given to Ellana (a belief he secretly hoped was true). "Perhaps I should have something to call you by as well."

"You call me my lady."

"I had something else in mind. A pet name." One he had had for quite some time, truthfully, when he had begun to dream of being with her, as a man who actually deserved to be. He had gone through the possible choices: Ell, Ellie, Ella, Lana. But there was another he thought of that just felt right to him, like it was a perfect fit for her. Now was as good a time as any to tell her.

But to his surprise, Ellana beat him to it. "It's Ana, isn't it?"

His thumb stopped moving at that. How could she know? He hadn't told anyone about that name...unless that boy Cole had heard his thoughts and told Ellana in that cryptic manner of his. If that was the case, it made him wonder how much else that spirit (or demon or whatever he was) had found out about Blackwall.

Luckily, Ellana did not keep him wondering long. "When we were fighting that dragon in the Hinterlands and you were injured; I was tending to you afterwards. And you called me Ana."

As she spoke, the vague flashes of the memory came back to him. Waking up after having been knocked out, with a pounding head and blurry vision, pain along his side. He remembered hearing her voice calling to him and even staring up at her blurry form thinking her a most beautiful sight silhouetted against the light of the setting sun. But he thought he had imagined calling her Ana as she hadn't brought it up until now.

"At first I thought you were hallucinating," she continued. "Calling for someone else you'd known. But you murmured something about me being safe from the dragon, that you would go through it again for me. Then you passed out."

She laced her fingers with his. "Hearing that after you had pushed me away, seemed distant afterward...it gave me hope that you still wanted this as much as I did."

"I always wanted this." He lifted their joined hands up so he could plant a kiss on the top of hers. "I'm sorry for making you feel otherwise, my lady." He should never have tried to push her away, never tried to distance himself in some pathetic attempt to keep his resolve not to be with her. He couldn't bear the thought of having hurt her.     

She rewarded him with a soft smile. Maker, he could lose himself in that smile. "Don't you mean Ana?"

It took a moment to sink in. She was agreeing to his pet name, wanted him to use it. And it took all it could to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.

Instead, he cupped her cheeks in both hands and said without falter, "Of course, Ana," before leaning in to kiss her, her acceptance of his pet name (along with the knowledge of hers for him) making him happier than he had any right to be.


	6. Buckle Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the Writings on the Wall Blackwall appreciation day on Tumblr (put together by pixiedurango and Isawinsilance), with the prompt "Dress Me Up/Buckle Up."

-6-

It was decided they head out by mid-day, get in a few hours before the sun went down. From what Blackwall heard, Solas knew of a place they could go, a fortress nestled in the mountains. But it would take two days or so worth of hiking with what supplies, animals and people they had with them, some of whom were still healing from injuries from Corypheus's attack.

As one of those who had been on the front lines, Blackwall had been lucky he hadn't taken any major injuries himself. But one of those mutant Red Templars had gotten a lucky hit to his left shoulder, which always seemed to disproportionately suffer more abuse than his right. One of the healers who had gotten out of Haven had looked at it, put a poultice on it, determined no serious harm had been done to it. However, trying to put his chest plate back on with a sore shoulder, still unable to fully rotate it, had been difficult. He could only hope their way to wherever it was they were going was clear, allow his shoulder a bit of time before he had to fight again. 

After having finally slipped it on over his gambeson, he was still trying to tighten the straps when Ellana came by, asking if he was ready to head out soon, her sudden appearance causing him to let go of the leather harnesses. She didn't need to see him struggling. She had bigger things to worry about. 

"As soon as you need, my lady Herald."

"I've told you, Blackwall, you can just call me Ellana," she insisted, not for the first time. "I'm still just an ordinary Dalish elf, regardless of what happened."

Though her modesty was one of the qualities he found quite appealing about her, he couldn't believe that. He had never been as devout as perhaps he should have been, but when they all saw Ellana, nearly frozen to death, appear on the top of the hill (when it seemed all hope for her survival was lost), and Haven's refugees came together and sang that hymn, it was difficult _not_ to believe that Andraste or even the Maker had a hand in her safe return, that she truly was the Herald of Andraste.

Ellana stepped closer to him. "Also, I never got the chance to thank you. For doing what you could to keep me warm."

He had been restless, wanting to do something, anything, to help her. Then Mother Giselle, one of many Chantry mothers and sisters who had been assisting Adan with those wounded, suggested that Ellana would warm up faster with someone holding her. And against his better judgment, he agreed. Held her until some color appeared on her face again. Allowing him a moment to pretend, like he was someone deserving of taking care of her, deserving of having her in his arms. 

That she was _his_ lady, his Ana. And he was hers.

But it was only a fantasy. And it had to stay that way.

"It was nothing, my-Ellana," he amended, watching the pleased look appear on her face at the use of her given name. 

"Well, I still appreciate it," she said, reaching out with a friendly pat on his shoulder. Which, of course, had to be his injured one.

He tried to hide the wince at her touch, but it was too late.

"Are you alright?"

He shot her a look of reassurance. "Shoulder's still bothering me from the battle, that's all. I'm fine."

Her sharp gaze fell on his loose chest plate. "Were you alright getting into that? Do you need any help?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm alright, I can manage." He hoped to prove his point by fastening the strap over his right shoulder, but an uncontrolled grunt of pain betrayed him as he raised his left up.

Ellana was already reaching out to the strap before he could get a word in. "There's no reason to hurt yourself more. Please let me help."

Though she said it as if he had a choice, he sensed she wasn't truly giving him one. With a resigned nod, she began fastening the first of the four.

Maker's balls, her face was so close. All he had to do was tilt his head to the right, have his lips brush her temple, then lift her head up higher with a push of his hand on her chin to reach her lips...

No, he couldn't think like that. He didn't deserve to. He was too far beneath her.

Her asking whether the harness was too tight pulled him back. Once he affirmed it wasn't, she moved to the next one, allowing him another view of her face at a similar angle. But he refused to let his eyes focus on her lips. Instead, they followed the path of her markings, along her forehead, down over her eyelids, to her cheekbones, even the unconnected one on her chin, the first time he actually studied them intently.

"I don't think I've ever asked, my l-Ellana. The tattoo on your face. I know the Dalish wear them, but what's the significance?"

"The vallaslin? It's meant to honor our gods. Mine is for Sylaise, the Hearthkeeper. The Dalish believe she taught the elves how to use magic for healing, among other things," she replied to the questioning look on his face. "It's the same one my Keeper has."

"When did you get it?" Yes. Talking while she did this was good, allow him to focus on something other than how close she was to him again.

Finished with the top straps, Ellana turned her attention to the lower ones. "Around the time I turned 16. Usually it's around 18, but Keeper Deshanna thought it best I do it as soon as possible. She had been without my mam as First for close to five years and she thought it was time I start to really fulfill that role. I'm not sure I was entirely ready for it, then. But I got through the ritual on the first try, so that's something."

"It's a difficult process?"

"It can be, especially if you aren't ready." She shifted over to the last strap. "The ritual itself is relatively straightforward. Meditating on the elven pantheon and the ways of the Dalish, purifying ourselves physically and spiritually. But the process of applying the ink is...trying, to say the least. But we have to stay silent through the entire thing. Our silence and ability to withstand the pain shows we are ready to take on all the difficult responsibilities required of adults in the clan."

"And if someone can't?"

"Then the Keeper can stop the ritual, try again when she feels it's time. It happened to a few members of my clan." She hummed in remembrance. "I was convinced it would happen to me. I had a lower tolerance for pain when I was younger. But my sister...never seen anyone so calm during it."

Ellana then backed away from him and he had to curb the urge to reach out and pull her back towards him instead. "There. That should do it."

"Thank you, Ellana."

She smiled at him, the light from the sun above reflecting off her vibrant green eyes, causing them to shine. Maker, even with her looking downright exhausted, she was still such a breathtaking sight. Even though he shouldn't think it, he couldn't deny that fact.

She then turned to walk away, saying something about them leaving soon over her shoulder, but she only managed to make it a few steps when she fell forward into the snow.

"Elgar'nan," she muttered in exasperation as she propped herself up by the hands. 

Blackwall quickly closed the short distance between the two of them, reaching down to help her up. "Are you alright, my lady?"

"I'm fine," she said, taking his hand. "My fenedhis knee gave out on me for a moment. Thought I hadn't strained it that badly."

"Perhaps you should ride one of the horses or in one of the carts." They had been fortunate that the path Roderick had shown them had had a few abandoned carts alongside it which had also contained some untouched supplies.

She shook her head. "There are others who need them more than me."

She made to brush the snow off her face, but before he could stop himself, his free hand beat her to it, brushing the snow away by following the pattern of her vallaslin, noting her skin (so cold and smooth to the touch) felt no different as if the tattoo wasn't there. He knew he had to stop once all the snow was off her face, pull away before he was tempted to take this any further, but he couldn’t make himself do it.

And to his amazement, she didn’t tell him to stop. He chanced a glance into her widened eyes and it quickly became obvious to him she didn’t want him to either.

His traitorous eyes found themselves back on her lips, his thumb hovering just to the side of her mouth, yet again wondering what it would be like to kiss her, whether he should just give in and take the chance...

But the opportunity to do so was quickly snatched away, their little moment shattered by the call of one of the Inquisition soldiers for her, both pulling away before he reached them, there to inform Ellana that Cullen was asking for her.

She quickly followed the soldier, but not before Blackwall caught the slight blush growing on her cheeks that he was almost certain had nothing to do with the snow, the fleeting disappointment she had been unable to conceal from her eyes. 

_Maker's balls..._

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. What had he been thinking? What right did he have to kiss her, to desire her? Even if she wanted it too, it didn't change the fact he was a fraud, a good-for-nothing murderer who had assumed the identity of someone far nobler than himself. 

What right did Thom Rainier truly have to her?

It was time to acknowledge it. He had to let this go. He could be her Warden. He could even be her friend. But anything more than that could never be. She deserved someone better. Who could be what she deserved. Someone else's Ana.

No matter how difficult it was, this couldn't go any further than it already had. It was best for the both of them. No matter how much it pained him to do so. 

But then, he supposed he was used to that by now.


	7. In the Morning Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated E for smut.

-7-

Heavy eyelids cracked open as the dawn light filtered through the glass of the cracked-open balcony doors and onto her. She rubbed the backs of her fingers under her eyes to clear away the grit from sleep, brain slowly catching up to the fact that she should have been up earlier. But that knowledge was not enough for her heavy feeling limbs to properly cooperate and lift herself out of bed. Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to keep trying.

Ellana realized after the second attempt that part of the struggle was due to the weight of additional arms banded across her waist, which seemed just as unwilling to budge as her limbs were. She craned her head back enough to catch a glimpse of Blackwall’s face, whose eyes were closed, but his breathing indicating he was already awake.

“I have to get up now, vhenan.” But her statement only seemed to cause Blackwall to strengthen his hold around her waist.

“Surely my lady can spare a few more minutes?” he asked softly, eyes partly opening.

Many mornings when he wanted her to stay in bed longer, it didn’t take much convincing, Ellana not truly wanting to leave the warmth he offered. But she had to make herself today.

“Have to go over these reports before I meet with Cullen. Told him we could meet early before our War Council meeting and…”

She trailed off as calloused fingers brushed against the underside of her breast, touch feather-light, and gasped when lips pressed against the juncture of her neck and collarbone, her head rolling back against the edge of the pillow.

“Sure I can’t entice you?” he murmured against her skin.

“What…what did you have in mind?” she asked breathlessly as he kissed there again.

He chuckled low under his breath, a dirty chuckle that left no doubt what he had in mind. Further confirmed when his fingers went from brushing under her breast to cupping it firmly in his hand, rolling her nipple with his palm, while he resumed wet kisses up and down her neck, his beard sliding against her skin. She gasped again when he lightly bit down, his thumb now toying with her nipple, mouth and fingers intent on teasing her with slow sensual touches that were making it harder and harder to maintain her resolve to leave the bed.

“Really…really should…” But she couldn’t even finish her attempt at a protestation this time, not when his other hand (clearly not content with staying idle) rubbed along her belly, finding its way down to the hair between her legs, playing with the curls at the top before sliding even further down. She jolted against him as if her body wasn’t prepared for it, for his pointer finger running along the slit of her cunt, to nudge apart the folds and curl the pad of his finger inside her.  

He clearly wasn’t hesitant in pulling out all the stops to get her to stay…and Dread Wolf take him, it was working.

She whimpered, rocking against his finger as he inched it further inside her, then back out. His squeezes of her breast and nips at her neck were entirely in sync with the thrusting of his finger. Teasing her until all that could occupy her thoughts was the need to have his cock inside her to quell the growing ache between her legs.

“Please…please…”

He stopped at her moan, but shifted himself more against her, his cock hard and pressed into her ass. “Please what, Ana?” he asked, attempting to maintain the voice of innocence when he was anything but at the moment, likely wearing that cocky smile of his.

“Need…need you…” She had gotten better, about expressing exactly what she wanted without prompting from him, but when he had her distracted so, she found words difficult to come by.

“Need me to what?” he asked just as calmly, though his voice was rougher.

She let out another soft moan when his thumb pressed down on her clit, the pressure almost dizzying.

“Take me. Please,” she said, finally forcing words out.

“How?” he asked, nipping at her ear. Creators, she couldn’t take much more teasing.

“How-however you want.” She practically gave a sob of relief when she felt his hand behind her, grabbing for his cock. She inched further up the mattress, leg finding its way over his hip. They both moaned (though his was much louder) as he eased his cock in.

She reached for the hand at her breast, wanting that additional contact, intertwining her fingers with his and squeezing once he was fully inside her.

“Andraste’s tits, you’re wet,” he said with a guttural groan as he started to move. “And warm. So fucking warm.”

They rocked against each other, a slow, rhythmic pace that rubbed against a spot inside her on his every thrust that had her whimpering, completely at his mercy.

“Maker’s balls, do you know how good you feel, so tight around my cock?” he murmured sinfully against her neck.

She had quickly discovered how much she enjoyed listening to that Markham burr of his tell her filthy things as much as sweet things. It had been accidental the first time he had done it, words spoken upon approaching orgasm that he had hastened to take back once they had finished, only to have her tell him (to both their surprise) how she had actually liked it. Encouraged him to do it again. And ever since, he had not held back when the desire to struck him. Though it seemed he was especially vocal that morning, continuing to mutter dirty things. She just wished she could see his face (a major downside to this position), but she’d settle for imagining it, his half-hooded eyes, his slightly parted lips against her neck and ear, the sweat building on his temples…

She stifled the loud moan threatening to escape her throat, it fizzling to a whimper of his name as he thrust harder into her. Even in a pleasure-filled haze, a small part of her always tried to be conscious about noise, whether it would carry, even from her quarters (who knew if the wind could carry it to those walking below or reach anyone just coming up to her door).

As if Blackwall could sense what she was thinking (or perhaps he just picked up on her quieted noise), he said in that lower octave that drove her wild, “No one can hear you, love. No one but me. Let me hear you, how much you love it when we fuck.”

It wasn’t in her to be loud for anything unless she had to be, least not anymore. But when he thrust hard into her again, coupled with his hand suddenly reaching down and playing with her clit, she couldn’t hold back the loud moan that time.

“That’s it,” he growled, voice even gruffer than before, typically a sign he was getting close. “Let me hear how much you love taking my cock.”

She laid her free hand over the one at her clit, it moving along with his fingers in time with the snap of his hips. “Yes…oh, Creators, yes…”

The pace of Blackwall’s fingers quickened, her hand struggling to keep up with the movements. “Come for me, Ana. Need to feel you come.”

It didn’t take much longer for her to, her orgasm rippling through her entire body. And Blackwall was close behind her, kissing her temple as he came with a grunt.

Once their breathing slowed and they untangled themselves, he carefully withdrew from her, the mix of his seed and her wetness oozing out of her, and flopped onto his back, but not before taking her with him. She nestled herself into the crook of his arm, running her hand through his sweat-matted chest hair.  

He kissed the top of her head. “Have I earned a few more minutes, my lady?”

She kissed his cheek. “More than a few, vhenan,” she said, snuggling closer as his arms tightened around her, hand rubbing soothingly up and down her back.


	8. Mir Vhenan Somniar

-8-

Blackwall had decided. There was no greater bliss than laying with his head on his lady's lap, as she ran her fingers through his hair and his beard, listening to her sing.

The man he had once been would have scoffed at the mere idea, would have only entertained it if it meant getting into the woman's bed that night. But now, he couldn't imagine a better way to spend his evening. Early, uninterrupted nights with each other had become increasingly harder to come by as the Inquisition continued to grow. And he treasured every moment he got to spend with her. Not only due to the increasing demands on her time, but in case the time came (that he couldn't help fearing still would) when the truth came out. To give him memories to hold onto.

He gazed up at Ellana, who was staring absentmindedly at the fireplace. The glow on her face and in her emerald hues from the fire, the look of pure contentment as she sang a Dalish song filled him with such warmth, that had him laying his hand over hers that was resting on his chest. His touch broke Ellana's gaze from the fireplace, glancing down at him with a soft smile curled on the edges of her lips. 

He closed his eyes, running his thumb along her skin as he took in her voice. Though she was hardly belting her voice out like the bards of the taverns so they could be overheard by rowdy patrons, there was no missing the strength and emotion behind it. The sound floating through the air and striking a chord, even if in a language foreign to him. He was utterly captivated by it, as he had been the first time he came upon her singing.

He opened his eyes again once she had finished the song. "You've a beautiful voice, Ana."

Ellana momentarily paused in her stroking of his beard, ducking her head at his compliment.

"You've said that before," she said, resuming running her fingers through his beard.

He shivered as she scratched at the skin underneath his beard, the sensation tickling him. "It bears repeating."

"You should have heard my mam. My voice can't compare to hers. No matter what was bothering me, no matter how miserable I was when I wasn't feeling well, hearing her sing never failed to make me feel better. And it helped me and my sister go to sleep more times than I can count."

Blackwall thought of his own mother. Certainly more demonstrative than his father had been, but between the chores around the farm and washing on the side for extra coin at night, she rarely had enough time to spend with her children outside of that. The times she did, the times she sat and sang to them at night (more upon Liddy's insistence than his), it was clear to him that his mother didn't have the knack for it. Even as lacking in musical talent as he was, he could tell she had never been able to get the pitch right, always too high or too low. As tone deaf as they came. Partly why he never asked for it after Liddy died. Not that his mother would have felt much like singing after that, anyway.

"Did you have a favorite? Was it 'Mir Da'len Somniar?'"

He felt the pronunciation wasn't right at all, as he stumbled through the name of the only Dalish lullaby he knew from Ellana; his hesitation must have showed on his face as Ellana replied, her face becoming impossibly brighter, "That sounded wonderful, vhenan. And yes, that was one of them, especially when she made up her own verses to add to it."

"I can see why. It's become a favorite of mine, too."

Ellana moved her fingers up through his hair, then stroked along the lines of his forehead. "Is that an implicit suggestion that you wish me to sing it?"

"Hadn't planned for it to be." He squeezed the hand under his. "But I wouldn't be opposed to it. If you want to."

Luckily for him, she didn't need any further prompting, no hint of hesitation like the first time he had asked her to continue singing for him.

He allowed his eyes to drift closed again after the first verse, entranced by the sound of her voice and her continual gentle ministrations.  To the point he eventually felt at risk of falling asleep on the couch, which he hadn't planned on doing when he first came up, wanting to maximize the time he spent with her, even if just enjoying the other's company. But he couldn't help it. Her voice was incredibly soothing, especially when singing this particular song.

He allowed himself to sink further into the couch and his head into her lap, a relaxation hitting him that he hadn't often felt since he had been on the run. He didn't have to worry about keeping up his guard, didn't have to worry about watching his words. He could just allow everything to drift away. No wars, no Corypheus, no Inquisition, no Wardens, no lies, no past. Nothing but listening to the woman he loved singing this song.

But as he teetered on the edge of sleep, his ears caught her start the song for a third time, and even fighting sleep, he swore it sounded a bit different. He pulled himself back more firmly on the solid ground of consciousness, truly focusing on the words she was singing. It was on the next verse that it hit him, why the song sounded a bit different.

" _Iras ma ghilas, vhenan. Ara ma ne'dan ashir_..."

He waited for the final verse of the three, to make sure he had heard correctly. And just like with the second, da'len had been switched out for vhenan, the Elven term of endearment she used for him.

He didn't know what to make of it, how to process it, what he could say to her about it. But as his gaze met hers as she finished, he realized that perhaps nothing needed to be said. Perhaps the only thing needed was to reach up with his free hand and cup her cheek, coax her down, her lips meeting his in a soft, sweet kiss. With the only other thing needed after that to eventually fall asleep, listening to her sing that song once more, still using vhenan in place of da'len.


	9. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little ficlet I posted last week on Tumblr for my birthday.

-9-

Ellana’s eyes opened at the sound of rustling beside her, spotting Blackwall over by the packs, shifting through the contents of one of them, cursing under his breath.

“Misplace something, vhenan?”

Blackwall’s gaze stayed on the pack as he answered, “Something for you, actually. For your birthday.”

“You mean whisking me away from Skyhold for the rest of the afternoon wasn’t it?” Not that much whisking had been involved. He had come up to her after getting out of a meeting with Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine and asked her to come up to the mountains with him and after some hesitation from her (thinking of all she still had to see to before they were on the road again in two days) and coaxing from him, she had agreed. Now, spread out on a blanket, belly full, and in the company of her vhenan, she was glad she had.

“That’s part of it.” He shifted over to the other pack, letting out a small sigh of relief. “There’s the bloody thing.”

Ellana propped herself up by the elbows, trying to see if she could get a peek as Blackwall pulled whatever he had been searching for out of the pack, but he kept it hidden from view. “What is it?”

“First close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

She sat herself up more, doing as he said and waiting for him to hand her her present. She heard him sit down beside her, then the weight of what felt at first touch something wooden pressed into her hands. She waited until he told her to open her eyes again.

And there in her hands was a wooden carving of a flower crown.

Her breath caught her in her throat as she took in the painted white mountain flowers, the pale blue of crystal grace, the pink of roses she was particularly fond of. She marveled at the detail, as she did with all his carvings. And the fact that he had taken the time to make this for her meant more than she could put into words.

“It’s not the real ones you make, but I hope you like it.” There was a bit of hesitancy in his voice, which had her immediately move to hug him and give him a thankful kiss.

“I love it. Ma serannas, vhenan. It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad,” he said, relief clear on his face. He kissed her this time, short and sweet. “Happy birthday, Ana.”

It had been awhile since she had truly felt this content on her birthday, since her sister had still been alive. Not to say Ellana hadn’t been to some degree as the years from Bri’s passing went by; it just hadn’t felt the same. But in this moment with Blackwall, it felt special again.

She kissed him again, wrapping her arm around his neck, setting the carving aside with the other. He responded, pulling her closer with an arm around the waist. Their kisses quickly became quite eager, Ellana ending up in Blackwall’s lap. He groaned into her mouth as she shifted herself against him.

She pulled away for air, her increasingly heated gaze matching his. “How much longer do we have out here?” She would have suggested going back to her quarters, but that would take too long. Besides, the spot Blackwall had chosen was shielded from the chill of the wind and was on a more secluded area off the path. They wouldn’t have to be too mindful of what was going on around them.

“Long enough,” he said, voice rough, before she ended up on her back against the blanket.

A brief thought popped into her mind that part of the reason she had been brought out there was to keep her occupied while Josephine set up a party (she had asked the week before if she could set up a public celebration, which Ellana had nixed, but she still wouldn’t put it past Josephine to organize a small, private party), but the thought quickly vanished upon the warm, familiar weight of Blackwall settling on top of her, trailing kisses down her neck.

As she reached for his hand and guided it to the top button of her jacket and went for the ties of his gambeson with her other, she found herself quite looking forward to where the rest of her birthday afternoon and evening would take her.


	10. Ar Lath Ma

-10-

In all the time Blackwall had known Ellana, he couldn’t remember a time he had seen her look so beaten down, so tired. And there had been plenty of days where she would have had every reason to. She sat on the couch, knees up to her chest, arms crossed around them, head angled towards the fire. She aimlessly stared at the sparking embers, softly humming a tune he couldn’t remember hearing before.

He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her too much. “My lady?”

Her lack of response or indication that she even heard him concerned him even more.

He sat himself down opposite her on the couch, risking a gentle touch of his hand resting on her knee. “Ana?”

She startled at his call that time, the sadness only slightly vanishing from her eyes. “Ir abelas. I didn’t even hear you come up.” She put on a weak smile. “How was your day, vhenan?"

"Uneventful." He rubbed her kneecap with his palm. "Yours?"

"Fine," she said in a way that told him it truly wasn't. Ellana never seemed to be able to entirely hide how she was feeling when in the company of those she trusted, especially with him.

"But...?" he asked, not wanting to prod too much if she didn't feel like talking. But unlike him, she was typically willing.

She cast her eyes downward. "I talked to Varric today. He was getting ready to write letters. About Hawke. I asked him if it was alright to write one to Bethany Hawke, her sister. And I did."

She tightened her hold around her legs, pressing the side of her head against the back of the couch. "I should never have asked Hawke to stay behind. Now Varric's lost his friend, Fenris his lover...and Bethany's lost her sister."

Her eyes closed, the despondence on Ellana's face making Blackwall's heart ache. "I know exactly what that feels like and yet I did it to her."

She had always been affected by witnessing or hearing news of deaths of innocents or their soldiers or allies, being one of the most empathetic people Blackwall had ever known, but deaths of those she discovered had siblings always affected her the most. Not that he didn't understand. Losing Liddy had been such a shock and a major turning point for him (and his parents). He sometimes wondered whether Liddy had lived if he would have gone on to be the man who would slaughter a general and his entire family, but he supposed it was irrelevant to think about now. She was long gone, coming up to thirty-six years in a fortnight. He'd have to think about honoring the anniversary of her passing, but he'd save those thoughts for later, not when Ellana clearly needed some kind of comfort.

He leaned forward, reaching out a hand to gently cup the side of her face, causing Ellana's eyes to re-open at his touch.

"There was never going to be an easy choice," Blackwall said, running his thumb over the vallaslin on her cheekbone. "But Hawke was willing. You didn't force her into a choice she wouldn't have made."

Ellana sighed, laying her hand over his. "I know. I know neither Alistair or Hawke would have been an easy choice. I just wish things had turned out differently. Naïve, I know, but..."

"Nothing wrong with wishing for a better outcome, love."

Ellana's gaze fell away again, thoughtfully staring over at the burning embers of the fireplace, cheek turning in his hand.

"I thought it would get easier," she finally said. "Making these kinds of choices. Just seems like it's getting harder. What kind of Inquisitor does that make me, if I struggle to make the tough decisions?"

"A human one." He winced as soon as he said, stepping in it again like he did during one of their first talks back at Haven. "Er...I mean..."

She squeezed his hand, shooting him a reassuring look. "I know what you meant, vhenan. And I appreciate it."

Blackwall then leaned in to gently kiss her, a brief press meant to convey he was there for her. He pulled away, opening his arm in silent invitation. Without hesitation, she took him up on it, crawling partly onto his lap, pressing her ear against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her tightly to him, pressing another light kiss into the crown of her head.

He forgot sometimes, that she was still one person trying to save the world, right the wrongs in half of Thedas. But he couldn't help sometimes thinking her other worldly, Andraste's Herald who had come to rescue the Maker's children from the darkness and bring into the light. But in moments like these, he felt blessed that _he_ was one of those she turned to for comfort, for reassurance. It was more than he deserved.

His attention focused on her again, when he just caught her murmur "Ar lath ma" against his chest.

That was new. He couldn't remember her saying that before.

"What does that mean, ar lath ma?" he asked, hoping to distract her anyway he could.

He felt her freeze against him, sharply intake a breath. The only sound between them was the crackling of the fireplace. He started to regret asking what it meant if it was causing this kind of reaction, but she had encouraged him early on, even before they entered into a relationship, to ask whenever she said something in Elven and wanted to know what it meant. What could it be about that phrase that was so different than any of the others?

Finally, she picked her head up, gaze unwavering as she answered him. "Ar lath ma...means I love you." Taking his hand in hers, she repeated with the same amount of conviction, "I love you, Blackwall."

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Not when she had chosen to be with him, not when he had suspected she had loved him. But for it to be said out loud was an entirely different matter. All he could do was sit there in shock, struggling to comprehend how someone as kind and good and caring and beautiful in body and soul as her could love someone like him.

This is what a part of him had always been afraid of. That they would get in too deep. That she would love a lie. Maker, he didn't know how to handle this. Captain Thom Rainier would have dismissed her love out of hand before moving to the next woman who caught his eye. And when he had been younger, in his teen years, his youthful infatuation with the neighbor's daughter did not compare to what he felt for Ellana, whom he truly couldn't imagine living the rest of his life without.

If he said the words back, he knew things would change between them. He wanted to believe it for the better. He wanted to believe they could stay together as long as both were willing and able. But assuming his lies wouldn't come back to bite him, there would come a time, when his Calling would supposedly rear its ugly head, and she would start to wonder why it hadn't happened or why he didn't want to go back to the Wardens. Then he would be faced with a horrible choice: to leave her forever, to a Calling he did not hear or rejoin an organization he did not belong to, or finally be forced to tell the truth, only to tell her after being backed into a corner.

Neither option was pleasant. Neither option she deserved. He still had a choice; he still had the opportunity to tell her. It would hurt her, hurt him, makes things incredibly uncomfortable between them. But she would be safe from even worse heartbreak.

She was still waiting for an answer, still staring at him expectantly. And the moment he saw a wisp of nervousness starting to creep into her eyes was the moment he knew.

He couldn't do it. He still couldn't let her go. Not yet.

Which meant there was only one thing left for him to do.

He pressed his head to hers, breathing in the familiar scent of various herbs and flowers that seemed to cling to her whenever she sorted through her personal collection or worked in the garden, and whispered, voice ringing with absolute conviction, "I love you, too." 

The warm, bright smile that broke out on her face, banishing what sadness that had remained, forced him to close his eyes, overwhelmed by the different waves of emotion it brought him to see. They opened again when he felt the quick, gentle press of her soft lips on the corner of his mouth, in a kiss so reminiscent of the one she had given him the night he first came up. Her smile had not faded; it spoke of contentment, of certainty. Things he wished he could feel without the guilt and selfishness and cowardice intertwined with them.

He then shoved those negative feelings aside and pushed them deep down. He couldn't worry about what might come later. He had to continue focusing on the here and now.

And the here and now consisted of him pulling her until there was absolutely no space between them and kissing her like a man starved of sustenance for days. It consisted of her keenly responding, squeezing the hand still in hers and grinding her lower body into his lap, fingers of her free hand snaking into his hair and scratching at his scalp. It consisted of him reluctantly breaking the kiss, to ask in a haggard breath if she wanted to move to the bed, not wanting to presume given how she had seemed when he first came up. It consisted of her (to his relief and delight) affirming with a simple "Yes," emerald eyes sparking with need. And it consisted of Blackwall lifting Ellana up off the couch, claiming her lips for another kiss as he carried her over to the bed, intent on showing her just how much he had come to love her, the best way he knew how. 


	11. Care

-11-

“You should be resting.”

Ellana picked her head up from the book she had been trying to read, spotting Thom on the stair landing.

“I am resting,” she said, though it came out as a rasp. Her voice was never that high pitched to begin with, but it had been reduced to practically nothing more than a gravelly wisp of what it was.

As Thom approached the bed, she more clearly noticed the mountain flowers he had in his hand. “You didn't have to.”

“I needed the walk. And your desk looked a bit empty.” He crossed around to her side of the bed, setting himself down on the edge, gloved fingertips reaching out to lightly trace the curve of her cheek. “How're you feeling, love?”

“About the same.” As if her body wanted to further prove the point, she drew her head into the crook of her arm and gave into a coughing fit. Thom rubbed her back through it until it finally passed, though even just that soft touch hurt her skin, still a bit sensitive.

"Is there anything you need me to get you?"

She eyed the pot and cup sitting on her desk. "Tea?" She could have made herself get out of bed, but she had no desire to move and in a rare instance she was giving in to that desire.

Thom followed her gaze. "Of course." He gently kissed her on the head before getting up and walking over to her desk, setting the mountain flowers on the desk beside the tray.

He made to pour fresh tea into the cup, but she stopped him just as he was about to tip it forward. "Let me heat it. Been sitting awhile."

He did as she requested, keeping a steady hand on the pot as he placed it in her palm and she summoned what heat she could to her hand. After a few moments, she pulled her hand away, and Thom rose to go pour the tea.

"Pour a bit of the potion Solas made too." Her last dose had been more than six hour ago, more than time for another.

Once he was done, he handed the cup to her. She thanked him, taking it in both hands and tentatively sipping the warmed licorice infused tea, also tasting the hint of cinnamon present in the potion, so soothing on her throat.

She continued taking sips, watching as he went and retrieved the empty blue vase sitting on her desk. “How’d it go? The game?”

“Not terribly.” He didn’t elaborate further until he came out from the closet next to the bed, presumably now with water in the vase. “No one said anything and Cassandra didn't seem too disgusted at the sight of me.”

She sent him a soft smile of encouragement, glad to hear his relationship with Cassandra was slowly but surely on the mend.

She watched him arrange the flowers into the vase. "I also see you have all your clothes this time."

"Between Solas and what happened with Cullen, I've more than learned my lesson."

Ellana couldn't help laugh at that, which threatened to quickly morph into a cough. Thom took the cup from her hands to prevent the rest of its contents from spilling on her and the bed as she gave into the harsh cough, her lungs aching and throat sore from the effort.

“Elgar’nan, this won’t let up.”

She fell back against the headboard, the cough having taken what energy had remained from her. The corners of her mouth then lifted back in a small smile when she caught sight of the white-petaled flowers on her desk. “They're beautiful, vhenan."

Thom held the cup out of her. "Do you want...?"

She thought about it, but the thought of lying down enticed her more, so she shook her head.

Thom took the cup back to her desk. "Were you able to sleep at all since I left you?"

She sunk down onto the bed. "No. Too much on my mind." Especially after Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen had visited her with briefings.

Thom sat on the edge of the bed, removing his boots. "Sleep would help."

"I know. But I can't _not_ worry." The thought had already crossed her mind more than once what she would do if Corypheus finally made his next move and she was still laid up like this. She barely had enough energy to walk around the room, let alone do combat maneuvers and cast spells one after another.

Done with his boots, he stood up, removing his gloves and standing above her. "I know. But we need you well, Ana." He brushed the backs of his fingers in a gentle caress across her cheek. " _I_ need you well."

The amount of concern laced in his voice had her threading her fingers through his and squeezing his hand. Thom then lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers, a familiar affectionate gesture that filled her with warmth and had her softly smiling.

He let go of her hand, which fell like a heavy weight beside her. His gaze fell on the book in her lap for the first time. "What were you reading when I came up?"

"Brother Genitivi's book _In Pursuit of Knowledge_." She paused to give into another cough, albeit a brief one this time. "But I haven't managed to get too far in it today."

He gently took the book from where it lay. She thought he might intend to place it on her desk so it wouldn't fall onto the floor from rolling over during sleep (whenever that was), but instead he asked, "Would you like me to read to you, my lady?"

The idea hadn't crossed her mind, but now that he had asked, she couldn’t think of a better way to spend the evening, at least until she could finally fall asleep. "Please."

He only stripped out of his gambeson, settling himself on top of the duvet and propping himself up against the headboard, his pillow resting behind his back. He then opened his arm out for her to curl into. She waffled, having wanted to just lay down, but ultimately propped herself up and positioned herself so her head rested against his chest, his arm holding her close to him, deciding that being in his arms trumped lying beside him. Once she told him where she left off, she closed her sore eyes, letting his soothing voice wash over her.

“…The whole country is filled with artistry, from the statues of heroes that litter the streets in even the meanest villages to the glittering golden College of Magi in Cumberland…”

As she continued listening to him, she realized it was moments like this that reminded her how good it felt to be taken care of, after spending so much time taking care of others. And it was moments like this that reminded her how lucky she was that she still had him, that they had worked through the most difficult of their issues (and ones caused by others, Keeper Deshanna included) since his return from Val Royeaux and came out of it still together.

And she wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.


	12. Stargaze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated E for smut.

-12-

"Fenedhis, more, please more."

Ellana whimpered when Blackwall sped up his thrusts, panting heavily against her neck.

"This what you want?" he asked, nipping at the skin under his mouth.

"Yes, don't stop, please don't stop."

This hadn't been the plan when they left the camp, just to take an evening walk together. Nor had they started out on the ground. He had first taken her from behind while she supported herself with gloved palms pressed against a tree trunk. But she wanted to watch him, wanted to kiss him, and while the position had felt wonderful, it had not adequately suited those needs.

She felt his calloused hand come up under her bunched up, half open shirt, palming her breast through her breast band. She pulled at the grass underneath her right hand as he thrust into her, her left busy running up and down his back under his own shirt, fingertips tracing over the scars he bore there (scars she had yet to learn the stories to) until it came to his shoulder, tugging him back down for a warm, hard kiss.

She moaned into his mouth as his other hand came under her ass and lifted her up slightly, his cock hitting a sensitive spot inside her at just the right angle. As much as she wanted it, she knew she couldn't hold back much longer. The hand fisting at the grass journeyed down between them, toying with her clit instead, her other hand threading through and tugging at his hair. Her trembling legs tightened around his waist, gasping, "Almost..."

Blackwall's warm breath ghosted across her cheek as he murmured, "Come for me, Ana."

She turned her head, her eager lips finding his again as she came, tremors coursing through her body, Blackwall stilling inside her as her cunt clenched around him. Her hand fell to her side and her head onto Blackwall's haphazardly folded-up gambeson as he quickly resumed his vigorous pace, straightening himself up and stretching her legs out as far as they could go as he pounded into her, his grip digging into her hips, the sound of slapping skin echoing around them, him rushing towards that same sweet release as hers.

"C-come for me, vhenan," she whispered, urging him on now, breathless from the force of his thrusts. She clutched onto his wrist. "Need to see you..."

She watched as his eyes soon fell closed, his mouth opening to emit a drawn-out groan, the tension lines on his face relaxing, as he pulled her hard against him when he came, emptying himself deep inside her.

"Fuck..." he said, sounding just as breathless as her, slowing his thrusts as he rode out his orgasm. "Maker's balls, love..."

She reined in the ridiculously giddy smile that threatened to break out on her face at the way he called her "love," that one word carrying such devotion, such amazement, such desire for her. Once he stilled, Blackwall lowered himself back down, head tucked under the crook of her neck as their breathing slowed, careful to support his weight on his forearms. She nuzzled her face into his hair, lazily brushing a kiss into it.

It was moments like these she found herself wishing they could stay like this, just the two of them. Nothing calling both of them away, no greater responsibilities to be concerned with.

Once his breathing returned to normal, she felt him murmur against her skin, "Do you wish to head back, my lady?"

She found herself replying more quickly, more vigorously, than she had intended. "Let's stay, just a little bit longer." They had already been gone longer than anticipated. What was a bit of extra time? She'd take the inevitable teasing from Sera and Bull later.

Blackwall planted an affirming kiss on her neck, then untangled themselves as he rolled over onto his side, yet still kept her close with an arm thrown casually over her waist and his head pressed against hers. She knew she needed to clean herself (she could feel some wetness underneath her on the inside of her coat), needed to pull her smalls and trousers back up in case they were happened upon, but she had no inclination to move.

"I think we should take walks like this more often."

Blackwall let out a brief chuckle, kissing her cheek. "I wouldn't be opposed to that."

She smiled, turning her attention to the clear night sky and the bright stars which decorated it squarely in her sights.

"The aravel's out tonight," she murmured more to herself.

Blackwall lifted his head up a bit. "What was that?"

"The aravel. You can see it in the stars."

He squinted in the direction she was pointing. "I don't see it."

"Here." She took his hand laying on her stomach, guiding his finger up at the aravel constellation. "The stars there are the wagon, those above are the hoods."

"Ah, I see it now." He shifted on his back with a grunt, presumably to get a more direct look. "Do you see any others?"

The stars rose a bit differently from how they did in the Free Marches, but she had become accustomed to that after months being further south. She directed his hand over to the cluster of stars to the right of the aravel constellation. "That is Andruil's bor'assan, her bow."  She traced the constellation above the bow. "And that's her assan, her arrow."

"That's one of your gods, right? An-dr-uil?"

She felt a warm feeling spread through her as it did every time he showed an interest or recalled something he had picked up about elven culture. "Yes, the goddess of the hunt. Our hunters follow her teachings. The Vir Tanadhal, the way of three trees, made up of three tenets. 'Be swift and silent,' 'As the sapling bends, so must you.' Those are the ways of the arrow and the bow."

"What is the third?"

She searched for it in the sky, directing his hand towards the constellation once she found it. "There. Fervanis, the oak. 'Receive the gifts of the hunt with mindfulness.' The way of the wood."

"Those stars there...is that the trunk?"

"Yes. The stars above that connect like that? They're the branches, then the roots are at the bottom," she said, patiently showing him.

"So they are."

He stared up at the sky a moment longer, then turned on his side and laid his hand back on her belly. She rested her hand on top of his, mindlessly stroking her thumb along the knuckle of his. They then lay there in silence, the creak of the trees in the background, Ellana losing herself in her thoughts. After a few moments, Ellana chanced a glance over at Blackwall, whose eyes had fallen closed. She reached over and ran her hand through his beard, which caused his eyes to crack open.

“Maybe we should head back, before you fall asleep.”

“I’m not falling asleep,” he said, his protest sounding too languid for it to carry much weight.

“Just resting your eyes, then?” she asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

"Can't help if you tired me out, love," he said, hand coming further around her waist.

She could feel the heat rise in her face at his words. "I-I think you started it, vhenan.”

He chuckled, looking pleased at getting her flustered (not that that was difficult to do). “Suppose I did.” He kissed her, though without much of the heat of his earlier ones. She still pulled away, propping herself up, before she risked losing herself in his kiss like she did last time.

She straightened herself and reached for her bag, her collected elfroot poking out of it, for the rag inside, using that to clean herself. Once she stood up, Blackwall followed suit with a sigh, taking the rag she offered him.

As Ellana waited for him to finish cleaning up and getting himself together, she passed the time looking back up at the constellations. Her eyes flitted from the ones they had found, from picture to picture. It then struck her there was one constellation she had yet to see. It was one her sister always made sure to find, whenever they would play their game of finding pictures in the sky (Bri had always loved to play games). Ellana searched for it, smiling when she finally finding it in the distance, to the east, hidden in a cluster of stars.

Elgara. Sparkling as intensely as could be expected of a constellation named after the sun. It made sense why it had been Bri's favorite one, why Mam and her would call Bri "elgara" at times. She had been just like the sun. Warm, inviting, bright.

Ellana's smile fell, too quickly reminded how Bri had been the opposite of those things before she died. The all too-familiar feelings of guilt and self-loathing began to creep back up, but she pushed them down before they overwhelmed her, swallowing the quickly growing lump in her throat.

"Ana? You ready?"

Her gaze tore away from the sky at Blackwall's call, making sure none of what she had been just feeling was present on her face before she turned to him. Thankfully, even with the bright stars, it had gotten quite dark out since they had started their walk, and he was still over by the tree where he had collected his gloves and sword.

She nodded, strolling over to him, lacing her fingers through his as they started their journey back.

That was enough stargazing for one night.


	13. A Hope We Don’t Get Caught Kiss

-13-

They were only an hour into this and already she wanted to leave.

Ellana didn’t know what it was. It’s not as if she hadn’t hosted nobles and had day-long interactions with them before at Skyhold. Even though she hadn’t enjoyed them, they had been tolerable for the most part. But at least at Skyhold, it was much easier for someone to pull her away without it seeming like a slight. Here at another’s estate with only Vivienne, Josephine, and Thom, that was a bit harder.

And _everyone_ wanted to talk to the mighty Inquisitor, slayer of the dread Corypheus, questioning her on what it was like to go up against him, what she had planned next for the Inquisition, some asking for advice or her to intervene on their behalf in a personal matter or feud with another member of the nobility. The way a few of them talked to her, she was surprised no one had tried to  propose marriage to her or suggested her for one of their sons or brothers. Even with Ellana already being spoken for, she wouldn’t put it past them. But the night was still young, she supposed.

It irked her that if she had been any other elf, they wouldn’t have given her the time of the day. Thought her beneath them (though she suspected some still shared that view, just did not dare to say it publicly). It also didn’t help that Josephine and Vivienne had cajoled her into wearing a dress for it instead of her Inquisition uniform. At least Ellana was able to wear flat shoes and the dress wasn’t as restrictive as some others she had tried on in the past and the color was a beautiful shade of amethyst, but she still felt out of place in it.

She had to get out of there, have a moment to herself. She didn’t care what excuse had to be made. But Josephine was on the other end of the room, chatting with their host for the evening, a member of the Council of Heralds, Comtesse MontBelliard. She did not even see Vivienne around. Then she caught Thom’s eyes, who was standing nearby against a wall, silently asking him to come and rescue her before the forced smile fell off from her face. A claim of an urgent Inquisition matter from him a moment later and Ellana was finally free. At least for a little while longer. They had yet to have dinner, after all.

“Thank you, vhenan. I thought I’d never get out of there.” She immediately noted the bit of tension he seemed to be carrying. “No one’s been giving you any trouble, have they?”

Thom shook his head. “Not to my face. Likely having you within earshot helps.”

They fell into silence, but Ellana didn’t mind, enjoying his quiet company over the ones she left. She quickly lost track of where Thom was going, only caring they didn’t encounter many people beyond the area outside the main hall. 

“What are you doing, Thom?” she asked with a surprised laugh as he suddenly stopped and led her by the hands into a nearby alcove, her back ending up flat against the wall.

“Giving you something to think about during dinner.” He pressed his lips against hers in a fiery kiss, one that had her melting into his strong embrace, making it even harder to think where all this was coming from (or to even really care).

“Someone might come through,” she faintly said as they broke the kiss to catch their breaths.

“No one’s around. It’ll be fine, so long’s we’re quick.” She wished he shared his confidence. The rational, still able to think part of her mind wondered if he had this confidence from previous experience, from sneaking away with women during fancy parties such as this, but the thought banished when his lips traveled down the length of her neck, nose nuzzling her collarbone.

“Maker’s balls, do you have any idea how distracting you are in this dress?”

Nothing aroused her more than when that burr of his became more pronounced, when his voice lowered to that more vulgar octave, using it to say dirty things. Maybe she didn’t have to question her sanity on agreeing to wear a dress, after all.

His thigh slipped between her legs and she instinctively ground against it with a faint moan, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric. A hand gripped her waist, shifting the skirt of her dress up ever so slightly.

“Do you want to stop, Ana?” he asked between kisses, his mouth now having moved to the tops of her breasts, his tongue tracing patterns on her skin.

They needed to. Even if no one had come through yet, someone might come through, whether by accident or in search of them. _But_ it wasn’t as if they hadn’t done something like this in a less than private place before: at camps, in the loft, even the war room at Skyhold. And even if this was one of the riskiest things they had ever done, the alcove was slightly hidden from view. Nor did the thought of getting caught in the act by some Orlesian noble seem to curb the growing ache between her legs, especially with Thom staring up at her with half-hooded, lust-filled eyes she couldn’t resist.

Fisting a hand into his uniform, she pushed his head back up to her with the other, answering him with a resigned kiss, swallowing Thom’s pleased groan as his hand resumed the push up of the skirt of her dress in reply.


	14. Catching the Other Before They Fall

-14-

She was not looking forward to the walk back to camp. After having dealt with waves of undead and demons and a crazy Avvar leader wielding a greataxe, Ellana was exhausted and not ready for the drudge back in the opposite direction, with the rain only increasing in ferocity and with the potential of encountering more undead or Avvar on the way. But they couldn’t camp there for the night. They had no idea if they had taken care of all the Avvar loyal to the Hand of Korth in the area and no one was in the state to find out. Nor would help be coming from their newest agent. As quickly as Sky Watcher came and swore himself to their cause, he disappeared.

Once certain their missing soldiers were secure and Ellana was assured they would be alright making their way back on their own without hers or her companions’ assistance, Ellana began the descent on the stone stairs. Distracted by a blur of something she had sworn she’d seen in the distance, Ellana miscalculated the distance of the next step and her foot met nothing but air.

She braced herself, arms shooting out in front of her in an attempt to break her fall, but her propulsion downward was halted by another pair of arms wrapping themselves around her waist.

“I’ve got you, my lady,” she heard Blackwall say above her.

“Thank you, Blackwall,” she said, marveling at his quick reflexes. She hadn’t thought him to be that close behind her. “Figures. Avoid having my head taken off by an Avvar leader yet end up hurting myself falling down some stairs.”

She watched the edges of his lips curl in a slight smile. “Your secret would’ve been safe with me, my lady Herald.”

She was about to insist once again that he just call her Ellana, that he didn’t have to call her Herald or my lady all the time, when she noticed his arms were still around her waist. And how close their faces were to each other now that she had straightened herself up. How easily it came to her, the thought that if he pulled her ever so closer and she tilted her head just ever so slightly to brush her lips against his…

No. No, she had to stop thinking like that. This wasn’t the first time these thoughts had come to her, but they had to be the last. What was to be gained from them? It was unlikely Blackwall felt the same. Even if he did, she had no interest in intimacy with no strings attached and a relationship was unrealistic. Eventually, once the whole business with the Breach was over and the person behind it brought to justice, and more insight gained into removing the Mark on her hand, she figured the Inquisition would have no more need of her. She planned on going back to the Free Marches to join up with her clan, going back to being First, one day be Clan Lavellan’s Keeper.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. She could never go back to being the person she was before the Conclave, not when so many people considered her to be marked by Andraste (regardless of how unbelievable she thought that was), not after the chaos she had seen unleashed.

Nor were her growing feelings for Blackwall so easily dismissed. She had always been intrigued by him, drawn to him since the day they met when he had saved her from an arrow to the head. The way he threw himself into helping others, the resolve he had (clearly shown in Alexius’s dark future when he had had no reason to hold onto it or believe their plan to succeed other than her word)… yet there was an insecurity there, a feeling of worthlessness she empathized with (even if she didn’t know or understand the reason for it), one she was all too familiar with since her sister’s death.  And he was so kind to her. And patient with attempting to show her how to move faster in combat. And sometimes the way he looked at her, she swore she saw more than admiration in his eyes, that it was possible to think he could…

No. No, this had to stop. She was imagining that. She had to be. He respected her, admired her, saw her as a friend, but that had to be it. What could Blackwall possibly see in her that would warrant feelings beyond that? And even if he did, they couldn’t act on it.

Not to mention her…

Ellana was brought back from her thoughts at Varric’s call at the top of the stairs for Blackwall, Cassandra apparently having found a possible Grey Warden artifact on the way out. Blackwall immediately let go of her, his arms dropping to his sides. His mouth began to move as if to say something to her, but it closed, as if he thought better of it. As he turned to head back up the stairs, she swore she saw a flash of longing appear in his eyes.

It could have been a trick of the light, but Dread Wolf take her, a part of her hoped that it wasn’t.


	15. A Whisper in the Ear

-15-

She was given a day and a half reprieve before she had to go in front of the Council again.

Now that the Qunari threat was dealt with, there could be no more stalling. They wanted an answer from the Inquisitor about the role of the Inquisition and they wanted it then and now. She wanted to have Josephine send a message to them that they could wait as long as she bloody well pleased after having lost half her arm and the Mark almost claiming her life, but Josephine had already dealt with so much on Ellana’s behalf. She didn’t need to take on anymore, though Ellana did appreciate Josephine saying she would try to give Ellana as much as time as she needed.

Which if this struggle to get her formal uniform on, with its buttons and belt, was any indication, it would likely be a lot.

After several attempts, she looked over at Thom, asking for his assistance. He immediately went over to her, taking the top jacket from her hand, helping guide her arm through the right sleeve and ease what remained of her left through the other, pinning up the bottom of her sleeve. His hand then hovered over the first button of her jacket, as if waiting for her permission to continue. She nodded, figuring he might as well.

Ellana looked herself over in the mirror once finished with dressing, trying not to double take or startle at her missing forearm and hand, though it was difficult for her eyes not to wander over there. She pushed her shoulders back, stood at attention to channel strength and authority even when the fatigue was still so visible on her face.

She was as ready as she’d ever be.

Thom walked with her the entire way. She was glad to have him beside her, his close presence a great comfort, especially after coming so close to losing her life. If Solas was right, it still might be at risk, some unknown point down the line, but that was a worry for another time.

“Guess this is it,” Ellana said, stopping before they reached that final door, where two Orlesian guards stood on each side of it, waiting to let her in to the waiting council and audience.

She glanced down at the Divine’s writ, tucked in the crook of her arm. She had made her decision about this before she had even arrived at the Winter Palace. It may have been thrown into question during this whole investigation and with Solas’s revelations, but they had also shown how easy it would be for the Inquisition to become a corrupt shell of what it was despite her best efforts, of her soldiers paid off by rivals, of spies infiltrating her ranks. Even if their organized military power was lost, she believed their best chance to stop Solas’s plans was to disband.

It was time to let the Inquisition go.

Thom leaned in closer. “I’m with you, no matter what happens.”

Not caring for the possible stares of the guards, Ellana turned and pressed her head against Thom’s chest. What remained of her arm instinctively moved to hug him around the waist. It would take awhile to get used to this.

“I love you,” she murmured.

She felt the press of his lips against the hair above her ear, an arm curling around her waist in a quick hug of his own, not seeming to care about the presence of the guards either. “I love you, too,” he said just as softly into her ear, which twitched from his warm breath.

She then pulled away, not wanting to move, but she knew the sooner she did this, the sooner she could be back in his arms. 

With renewed strength and purpose, Ellana strode towards the door of the hall, ready to make her announcement that would forever decide the Inquisition’s fate.


	16. Muffled, from the other side of the door

-16-

Ellana felt like she had been walking forever. Every time she turned a corner, she expected to find herself in front of a door, but all she found was another dimly lit hallway. 

Finally, there was an end to all the winding corridors with a wooden door up ahead, which opened for her as she stepped in front of it. Her feet guided her down the stone steps into a room filled with cells, a space that seemed so familiar to her yet she couldn’t seem to place…

Until she reached the end and spotted a familiar figure, hunched over on his knees, sporting a black and blue bruise on his cheek, with an Orlesian royal guard standing over him.

No, this couldn’t be happening. Josephine had had him released from Orlais, Ellana had past judgment on him. She wouldn’t have let anyone take Thom back after everything that had been done to free him. Not after everything the two of them had been through. Not after what he had come to mean to her.

She made to move towards the guard, demand that he release Thom at the Inquisitor’s command, but her feet were glued to the floor and her throat locked up, unable to make a sound.

Her feet stayed rooted to the floor as she watched four more guards come in from out of nowhere, one by one, all taking turns to get their punches in. And he took them, all of them. Thom’s haggard eyes then turned up at her in between, begging for an end to all of this. It hurt to see him so defeated. She wanted to pull the guards back, shield Thom from the blows.

She still couldn’t move as two of the guards picked Thom up off the floor and began dragging him out of the cell. She tried to grab onto him, but the guards pulled Thom just out of reach.

She caught the red glow of their faces as they passed her.

No…this wasn’t right. Red Templars couldn’t be in Val Royeaux. She had stopped Florianne; Celene was still Empress.

Corypheus had been defeated.

Just as they opened the wooden door, Ellana had use of her legs again and she bolted towards them. She opened her mouth again to tell them to stop, but her voice was still not working. Her arm rose in an attempt to cast a spell, but the guards vanished with Thom through the door, whose eyes met hers just as the door closed with a resounding slam.

Just as her palms and face hit the door, she heard the faint “I love you” and even with his voice muffled through the wood of the door, she could still pick out the resignation tinged with remorse in his voice.

She leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door, trying to think, but everything seemed so murky, unfocused. She felt sensations on top her head and against her cheek, as if someone was touching them, but no one else was there now. She was alone, trapped in this room of cells.

She couldn’t let this happen. She had to find a way to stop this.

Suddenly, Ellana turned and the bars of Thom’s cell were around her now, with a slit for a window allowing for a straight-on view of the Red Templars leading Thom to the noose, slipping it around his neck. She tried summoning a ball of fire, to free herself from the cell which now held her, but like her feet had been, her arms and hands were now glued to her sides.

All she could do was helplessly watch as the platform, and Thom along with it, drop, her mouth open in a silent scream.

“Ana…Ana, wake up!”

Her eyes shot open, frantically staring up at the ceiling of her quarters. Her mouth was open as if still in a scream and she felt like she was going to throw up. Her eyes then darted to her side and saw Thom’s concerned face staring down at her, a hand on her cheek, the other on the top of her head.

Her hand reached out to run it through his beard, touch his face, needing that further confirmation, that he was truly there with her and not hanging from the end of a rope. That they had won the fight against Corypheus. That it had all just been a terrible dream. “You’re ok.”

He nodded. “I’m right here. We’re both safe.” He leaned his cheek into her palm, dropping a sideways kiss onto it. “Are _you_ ok? You were thrashing around something fierce.”

This hadn’t been the first time she had had a dream like that, but it had been the worst in awhile. No chance of her going to back to sleep anytime soon after that.

Ellana sat up, pulling her hand away from his face, rubbing it up and down her arm. “It felt so real.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She thought about it, but then she made the mistake of closing her eyes, the image of him in her dream burned into the back of them. Instead, she fell into his chest, burying her face into the crook of his neck. She felt Thom’s arms come around her, his bearded chin resting on her head.

They’d talk later. Right now, this was all she needed.


	17. Having their Hair Washed by the Other

-17-

It had been awhile since either of them had had a scrubbing down this thorough. But it was a necessary one, thanks to the longer than needed to be fight against the Northern Hunter terrorizing the surrounding area of Crestwood and Bull’s final blow, where they had all been a bit too close, unable to escape the inevitable spray of dragon’s blood. Now back at Caer Bronach for the night, Thom and Ellana were alone in their own room with a wooden basin only large enough for one of them to sit in.

Thom was going first, washing himself while Ellana tended to his beard and hair. She hummed a tune she had overheard a group of Inquisition soldiers singing over drinks as she combed through his dark hair, working out the tangles of dried blood and dirt embedded into it.

His grunt of discomfort as she accidentally pulled too hard at his hair, comb stuck in a tangle for a third time (not counting the other three times in his beard), cut through her humming. “Ir abelas.” She gently guided the comb through the tangle to try and unknot it without further discomfort for him. “Might be time for a trim.”

“Makes me wish for the days I had shorter hair and stubble again.” He paused in running the soapy rag over his shoulder. “Suppose nothing’s really stopping me.”

Ellana bit her lip, preventing herself from blurting out a knee-jerk noise of protest at the idea. She had wondered when this would come up. “Have you thought about it?” she asked once her voice was steady.

“It’s crossed my mind. No real reason to hide behind them now.”

Maybe no reason to hide, but for her, there was reason. That she had come to love running her fingers through his hair and beard when they cuddled together, when his head was on her lap, when she was comforting him during a nightmare, when he was moving inside her.

Finished with her combing, she reached for the jug by her side, summoning heat to her hand to warm the cooling water inside. She poured only a little on his head, asking if it was too hot before she continued.

“What do you really think about it?” he then asked.

She resumed pouring more water out of the jug, setting it down and grabbing for the soap. “About…?”

“Cutting them. My hair and beard, to the way they were. You don’t seem too thrilled at the idea.”

She lathered his hair with the bar of soap, massaging his scalp to work the soap in. “How do you know I’m not?”

“Because you have the same voice when you’re trying to be diplomatic.”

Ellana focused on scrubbing his hair, giving her time to compose an answer and not become all emotional on him at the thought of shearing them off.

“I’d really prefer if you didn’t,” she finally said, setting the soap down and grabbing for the jug again. “I love the way they are now.” She poured more water on him to rinse the suds out, threading the comb through his hair once more. “But it’s not all about what I want. If you decide this is something you want to do, I can try and get used to it.”

She ran the comb through a few more times until she was satisfied most of the tangles had slackened. Thom still hadn’t said anything in reply, resuming washing up.

Once done, he draped the rag over the edge of the basin, shifting so he was face to face with her.

“I’m not sure,” he said, a look of deep contemplation on his face. “After six years…might be too quick of a change.” He ran a passing hand through his beard. “To look as I did again, when I took that gold…be difficult to look at myself in the mirror, not be reminded of what I did to Callier and his family and my men even more.”

She laid her hand on his cheek, running her fingers through the side of his beard, her other hand curling around to the hair at the nape of his neck. Thom’s eyes lulled closed, as they did many times before from her gentle ministrations.

“I’d miss this,” he said, voice barely above a contented murmur. “Wouldn’t feel the same.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Ellana weaved her fingers further up his hair, scratching at his scalp. “I’d miss the way your kisses feel,” she admitted just as softly.

He cupped her face in his hands, pruned fingers pressed against her cheeks.

“Like this?” he asked before capturing her lips in a slow kiss, teasing them open with languid swipes of his tongue, his damp beard tickling her chin. She let go of his beard, wrapping both arms around his neck to hold him close, belly digging into the edge of the basin, savoring how right this felt.

It heartened her, that after everything that had happened to them, things had gotten to a new normal between them. It would never be the same as before, but coming as close as it could, with the intimacy and love between them grown stronger.

She was tempted to stay like this longer, but she eventually forced herself to break the kiss, her marked palm gently pushing against his chest. “I still have to wash, remember?” she teased.

He let out a low chuckle, her feeling it reverberate in his chest. He took her hand in both his, pressing a kiss against the knuckles. “Of course, love.”

They traded places, him gingerly getting out of the basin and her entering it. She began washing herself while he dried himself, picking up where she’d left off in her humming. Thom then took his place behind her to wash her hair and all the time he did, he interspersed kisses against her shoulder and the crook of her neck, his wet beard a comforting brush against her skin.


	18. First Cuddle

-18-

A part of him couldn’t believe this was happening. That he was in Ellana’s rooms, sitting on her bed with her in his arms.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had held a woman like this (not counting the time he had held Ellana after the destruction of Haven to help warm her up), cradling her against him with his arms securely around her, no desire to let go. His previous relationships had been mainly physical and brief, his longest one (a friends with benefits arrangement with a fellow solider) lasting nearly two months (a record he never even came close to passing). Yet how naturally it seemed to come, as if they had been together for much longer than a mere hour.

“Blackwall?” Ellana called out, voice slightly muffled with her head pressed on the fabric of the shirt he had worn under his gambeson.

“My lady?”

She raised her head, the light of the fire reflecting off her green eyes. “I’m glad you came up.”

Her words made his heart soar, yet it also sunk with guilt.

Truly, he should never have given in in the first place. His earlier words about them regretting this weren’t just hyperbole. He was genuinely unable to help fearing things would inevitably fall apart, his lies exposed for all the world, for her, to see. Whether through his own actions (when he tripped himself up over one lie or half-truth too many) or the chance of coming upon someone who recognized him, who saw through the beard. She deserved so much better than to be put through that.

_And yet…_

And yet as he looked down at her glowing face, he couldn’t make himself wish he hadn’t come, not when he had dared to dream of being with her for so long, not when he could see the contentment on her face. Whatever might eventually come, he resolved to make the most of this, treasure what time he had with her. To stay with her as long as she wanted him.

His eyes focused on her enticing lips, the desire rising in him to kiss her again.

It hit him that nothing was stopping him anymore.

He then pressed his lips to hers, swallowing her surprised (and also pleased) gasp, cupping the back of her head to hold her close, mouth moving with hers. He didn’t think he’d get enough of this, the softness of her lips, her taste of crushed mint. And how he wanted to undress her, run his hands on and kiss every inch of skin he uncovered, discover what it would be like to be inside her, just as he had fantasized many times before while pumping his cock in time to her imagined moans and movements against him. But he pulled away before he became further tempted, not wanting to pressure her. He had assured her they could take things at her pace, and he would hold to that. Being her first was more than he deserved, but he was determined to be worthy of it when the time came.

She smiled as she re-settled herself against him, which he found himself returning with a small one of his own. After a moment of contented silence, he caught notice of her stifled yawn, the fourth one that night.

“You look tired.”

She nodded, nuzzling her head against the crook of his arm. “Trip to the Storm Coast must’ve worn me out more than I thought. Or all the late nights are catching up with me.”

“Perhaps I should go, then. Let you sleep.”

Before he even shifted, her hand draped over his forearm. “Stay. Please.”

He found himself unable to deny his lady’s request, not truly wanting to leave her just yet either. They shifted themselves to pull the covers over them and lie down on the bed. They stayed in the same position as before, neither seemingly wanting to break the intimate contact with the other. He couldn’t resist kissing Ellana on her temple as she burrowed the side of her face against his chest.

“Thank you, vhenan,” he heard her murmur.

That unfamiliar word at the end caught his ear, assuming it to be another Elven word. He’d have to remember to ask her what “vhenan” meant when she wasn’t falling asleep on him. For now, he was perfectly content waiting for the Fade to call him, listening to the crackling of the fire and the deepening breathing of the warm woman in his arms.


	19. Things you said through your teeth

-19-

She was about ready to tear someone’s head off. Two someones in particular, who were bringing up the rear, bickering like children heavily armed with endless insults.

It might surprise anyone who met her now, but Ellana had a temper growing up, greatly tempered over the years with the help of meditation and other techniques the Keeper had taught her at Ellana’s own insistence. However, when Ellana had one of her headaches that only seemed to be getting worse, partly due to the infighting of the two men dearest to her in the Inquisition (now she knew how her sister felt when she and Cam would get into it) and being in the middle of the desert out in the ridiculously hot sun trying to track down a miner to give her back her recovered wedding ring, it was becoming difficult for Ellana to keep her irritation in check. Ellana had taken a dose of one of her potions, but it would take at minimum another hour to kick in and dull the pain.

For now, she was treated to listening to Blackwall and Dorian trade jabs at each other as they searched, which as far as she could tell, had been started for no real good reason. She was starting to regret not having volunteered to scout ahead with Varric, but someone had to keep the peace, and as leader, it had to be her.

Ellana was at a loss what had gotten into them lately, especially today. Maybe it was the heat. Or the long day fighting demons, Venatori, and spiders and hunting for shards. Or maybe them being on the road together for coming onto three weeks had finally gotten to them. She didn’t even want to think about what the trip back would be like.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the momentary pause, in the blissful silence. A silence that only lasted about thirty seconds.

“You have something to say, mage?” she heard Blackwall practically sneer, a tone she hated hearing him direct to one of their own.

“If I had something to say, I’d say it.”

“That’s it? I’d expect more from a man who can’t stop talking about how clever he is.”

“And I’d expect no less from a brutish thug,” Dorian retorted with no lesser amount of scorn.

“Better that than a pompous brat.”

Their arguing voices were practically drilling right into her skull. And she couldn’t take it anymore.

Ellana turned on her heel, fixing them both with an intense stare that had them stopping in their tracks. “Enough! Both of you.”

Blackwall sighed, sullen eyes staring down at her feet. “I apologize, my lady.“

“I _can’t_ imagine why more people don’t join the Wardens.”

Before she could round on Dorian, Blackwall got in another retort of his own. “You need never worry about being worthy, trust me.”

She felt the flare of irritation rising, unable to stop it, her control over her magic lessening and causing the Anchor to spit out angry green sparks.

“I said that’s enough!” Her yell reverberated on the canyon walls, causing the poor nug sniffing around nearby to run away. They were lucky they had already taken care of the Venatori milling about, the amount of noise she caused, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more in the area.

She turned away from them, letting out a string of aggravated curses in Elven before closing her eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, focusing on her breathing and counting halla in her head, reminding herself over and over anger-fueled yelling wouldn’t do any good. It hadn’t done her any good before. It had only brought hurt.

Once she regained some control over herself and the Mark, she turned back around and ground out, jaw clenched, “I expect better.” Her gaze went from Dorian to Blackwall and back. “From _both_ of you.”

At least they had the sense to look properly chastised (and a bit taken aback by her uncharacteristic outburst), though she doubted even that would ultimately be enough. She knew people. She knew them. She’d have to talk to both of them separately later, when Varric wasn’t calling from ahead asking if everything was ok and to let them know he had spotted the miner, when her head wasn’t pounding and they all had a chance to cool down for a bit.


	20. Things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear

-20-

Back with the clan, Ellana had liked to get up as early as she could, enjoy the hours in the early morning when the sun was just starting to rise in the horizon and the morning stillness could be felt throughout the forest. Her time with the Inquisition had been no exception, though since her relationship with Black- _Thom_ began, some days she had found it difficult to get out of bed and willingly leave the warmth of his arms.

They had agreed to not share a bed the night before. As for the next night, they’d take it a step at a time, see how their first talk since his pardon went. But it would be for sleep only. She wasn’t ready to attempt to resume the sexual part of their relationship yet.

Which led her to her walk along the ramparts, with only the occasional Inquisition soldier on watch milling about. It felt good to move around, breathe in that fresh mountain air, help clear her head before she eventually made her way down to the stables and what would be the start of a long, difficult honest talk. Airing out what needed to be aired out without what remained of the tattered remains of their relationship collapsing in on itself.

She paused, taking in the sight of the mountains and the red and orange hues of the dawn sky. Staring out, the thought again crossed her mind what she was going to tell the Keeper (word of her pardon and their kiss in front of the entire hall would spread quickly), but that was a concern for later. Once she and Bla- _Thom_ (Creators, was she ever going to get used to that?) had finished their talk for the day.

Her ears then perked up at the sound of voices and rustling coming from the tower with the broken furniture stashed inside it. As she approached the door, she heard a slamming noise, as if something struck the stone wall.

Her hand reached for the handle, ready to push when she heard someone’s voice travel through the door. “That it? You’re not even going to put up a fight?” The man (Orlesian from the sound of him) let out a cruel laugh. “Can’t imagine what that knife-ear sees in you.”

The other person let out a cough, trying to catch their breath. Her eyes widened as she caught Thom’s voice saying, “Don’t talk…about my lady Inquisitor that way.”

She knew she needed to act, open the door and stop this from escalating further. But her feet were rooted to the stone, listening as the Orlesian replied with a sneer, “Perhaps it is fitting. You can fuck each other like the savages you are.”

More crashing and the sound of punches flying and pained grunts and Thom’s yell to not “fucking call her that” had Ellana frantically pushing on the handle, but it didn’t budge. She had forgotten how cantankerous this door could be, why they usually left it partially cracked open. Putting her full weight against the door, she was able to force it open enough to get through, in time to catch a glimpse of the Orlesian in question, of his askew white gold mask, picking up his puffed-up hat from the floor and bolting out the door behind him.

Her gaze turned to Thom, who was wiping away the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. His eyes widened when he saw who had come upon him.

“My lady…”

Questions of what he was doing in there vanished at the sight of him bleeding and struggling to get up. A sight that would have had her running out the door after that fenedhis chevalier if not for Thom’s call to let it go.

She acquiesced, turning to offer her hand to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he got his bearings. “Who was that?” She hadn’t recognized the mask or the man behind it.

“Doesn’t matter,” Thom said dismissively, looking deflated. “It’s nothing I don’t de-”

“Don’t…” Ellana’s voice was sharp, cutting through his predicted proclamation of him being undeserving of defending himself. “Don’t you dare say it. I’ll not have people hurt you, try to take what they see as justice into their own hands.” Not after just getting him back, saving him from the noose.

She guided him through the door and was met with an Inquisition soldier approaching them. Ellana ordered her to find the Orlesian chevalier and detain him, let Leliana know of the assault. And to find someone to fix that door.

“Think you can make it to my quarters?” Ellana asked, turning her attention to Thom. “Or is it better to go to the stables?”

“I can treat myself, my lady.”

“Hush,” she said, softer than before. “ _We’re_ either going to my quarters or the stables and I’m going to treat you. Which do you prefer?”

After a moment, he answered with a defeated sigh, “Stables.”

This wasn’t how she had planned the start of their reconciliation, but they were going to work through this, regardless of who tried to get in the way. Starting with helping him to the loft in the stables and cleaning him up.


	21. “I’m sorry” Kiss

-21-

“Go on ahead and say it.”

She watched Thom pick his head up, serious eyes meeting hers. “Ana?”

“I know you want to say I told you so. Just go on ahead and do it.”

“On which part?” he asked, going back to examining her ankle. “The “you’re going to hurt yourself climbing” part or the “you’re going to hurt yourself jumping onto that ledge” part?“

She could hear the agitation in his voice, clearly directed at her.

"I had to get the shard somehow.”

“There was a better way to get it, but you chose not to do it. Instead you put yourself at risk over a bloody shard.”

“I can handle a climb every now and then, Thom,” she said with an irritated frown. Creators, now she knew how Bri felt whenever Ellana chided her for climbing trees too fast or going too high. Even if Ellana knew deep down that he was right. She should have just gone around, found the safer route, like she usually did. Less potential for her to slip and fall. She was lucky to have only suffered scrapes and possibly a twisted ankle.

“I know you’re capable. But this was reckless. What if you hadn’t been able to hold on when you slipped going up? Or hit your head on the rock when you fell?” Thom asked, clearly not hesitant to remind her of that fact.

“But it’s ok now. _I’m_ ok.”

Thom fell silent, but the tense look she caught in his eyes told her he was not entirely placated. He then got up off the rock he had been sitting on, gently setting her foot down.

“Besides a little bit of swelling, I don’t see anything out of place either. Think you can put weight on it?” he asked, voice strained, not quite looking her in the eye.

She summoned a bit of cold to her hand, applying it to her ankle to momentarily help with any inflammation. Carefully slipping her sock and boot back on, she tested standing up, a hand on Thom’s arm to steady herself. She didn’t feel entirely stable, but between leaning on Thom and using her staff as a crutch, she could make it. She had to if she wanted to follow Cassandra and Sera back to camp, to properly rest and retrieve her healing supplies for her ankle. Likely Thom would offer to carry her himself if she couldn’t, but she had noticed his shoulder bothering him, no matter how hard he tried to downplay it.

“Whenever you’re ready, my lady,” he said, handing Ellana her staff, yet staring ahead of him.

But it was clear they couldn’t go yet, not until they resolved this, not when they had promised to be as honest and open with each other as they could.

“You know I appreciate your concern, vhenan,” Ellana said softly. “But you don’t need to worry about me.” Not that she didn’t understand where he was coming from. Creators knew how many times she had worried about him.

“Can’t help it,” Thom said with a sigh, turning his face back to her. “I worry every time we leave Skyhold. And sometimes even there too.“ His eyes slipped closed, shoulders deflating enough for her to take notice. "I keep expecting to wake up one day and for you to be taken away from me.”

His admittance, the pain on his face, drained away any irritation she may have had, replaced by the urge to hug him close. “Thom…”

“When you fell, I thought for a moment…after everything that’s happened, after getting you back…to lose you like that and I couldn’t do anything to stop it…”

She cupped his cheek, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss of reassurance that she was right there, of remorse for making him fear in that brief moment.

“Ir abelas,” she murmured as she pulled away. “I’ll be more careful next time. I promise.”

Thom kissed her on the forehead in reply, a tender kiss that conveyed his acceptance of her apology with it, then wrapped his arm around her waist, set to help her back to camp.  


	22. Giggly Kiss

-22-

After a long day of traveling or fighting, Blackwall was usually out quick these days. But for some reason, his sleep was fitful that night, unable to stay asleep for longer than an hour at a time. After the fourth time waking, he propped himself up by the elbow, noting the still empty roll beside him. He threw on his gambeson, leaving the laces untied, and got himself up. He figured he might as well see if Ellana wanted company as she finished her turn on watch.

The night was completely still, no one or thing in sight. It had been quiet so far and signs were promising it would continue to be. Blackwall spotted Ellana sitting in the grass a little ways from the tents.

“Ana?” he called as he approached her, not wanting to catch her unawares. He didn’t fancy a fireball to the face, scorching off his beard.

“Couldn’t sleep, vhenan?” Ellana asked, shifting to face him.

He shook his head. “Thought you might want company. Unless you’d rather be alone,” he said, noting the crown of flowers in her lap and the basket containing flowers she had picked (along with other herbs) earlier that day beside her.

“No, I’d like your company. Think I have about an hour until switching off with Solas,” she said, reaching out for his hand.

“Making crowns?” he asked as he took hers and settled himself down on a soft patch of grass beside her.  He remembered the first time he had seen her make flower crowns, sitting around camp one night, and asked her about them. She had explained how it was something she and her sister used to do when they were children, how it still relaxed her to do, reminded her of the happy times with her sister.

“Needed something to do. Like you said, keep the hands busy.”

“Something on your mind, my lady?”

“Just thinking about Crestwood. What we’ll find there. What information Hawke’s Grey Warden contact has.” She picked up the flower crown from her lap, a circle of Embriums with a mix of small yellow meadow flowers in between, gingerly twirling it around. “Did you ever meet him? Alistair?”

He tried hard not to look panicked at the question, calmly answering, “Can’t say I have.” He was taking a shot in the dark, assuming the real Blackwall hadn’t. He didn’t recall it coming up in the few conversations he had with the man. Then again, he had never asked Blackwall. He had had more important things to worry about. He wouldn’t think about what he’d do if his guess was wrong.

“I didn’t know much about him,” she said. “Or the Hero of Ferelden, before all this. But I’ve been reading more about them. And Leliana’s told me a little. Said he and the Hero of Ferelden were quite taken with each other. Apparently flowers were big with them.” She smiled at Blackwall as she said it, likely thinking of the mountain flowers he had collected for her before they left Skyhold.

“Glad to know I’m getting that bit right,” he said, warmth flooding through him at the sight of her smile.

“You’d be doing just fine even without the flowers, vhenan.”

He tried not to think negative thoughts, that both of them would be doing better if he had been stronger and hadn’t gone to her rooms that night. Instead, on an impulse, he took the flower crown from her hand and placed it on her head, fitting it securely and comfortably on.

“How’s it look?” she asked, turning her head back and forth once he was finished.

“Beautiful,” he said, mesmerized by how she looked bathed in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful.”

She ducked her head, smiling modestly at the compliment. She then reached for the other flower crown by the basket and set it on his head.

“Now we match,” she said as she pulled away, her bright smile only growing. A smile that had him leaning in to kiss her, soft and slow. He still marveled at this, how he no longer had to hold back from kissing her, from taking her into his arms, how it felt the same as that first night more than just a fortnight ago.

Ellana scooted herself forward, hand on his shoulder. He pulled her closer, one hand on her back, other pressed against her cheek, thumb running along her vallaslin. He broke the kiss when he felt her shiver and at the sound of a muffled laugh and the sensation of vibrating lips against his. “My lady?”

“Flower’s tickling me,” she said, rubbing at the top of her forehead.

He found himself chuckling, her laughter infectious. He shifted his flower crown enough so that the offending flower would rest against her hair instead, testing his effort the only way he desired to, by kissing her once more.


	23. Neck kisses will drive me crazy

-23-

She had to be mindful when she’d get up before Blackwall, if he was still asleep. Unlike her, who could sleep through almost anything, he’d startle at the slightest noise.

But that morning Ellana was less than successful at keeping quiet, due to her brush slipping through her fingers like butter and falling to the floor with a clunk that seemed to resonate throughout the large room. She cursed under her breath the moment it hit the floor, gaze darting over to Blackwall, who started shifting around.

“My lady?” his groggy voice floated over to her.

She sighed, reaching down to pick up the brush and heading over to his side of the bed. “It’s fine, vhenan. I just dropped something. You can go back to sleep.”

He propped himself up by the elbow, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s alright. Should get up, anyway.”

“Helping Cullen with drills this morning?” she asked as she sat herself down on the edge of the bed by his legs.

“For a few hours,” he replied, now fully sitting up.

Ellana started running her brush through her hair, grimacing as it easily got stuck in a tangle. She tugged at the brush, freeing it from her unruly hair, only to once again lose her grip on it, sighing again as it struck the bed.

Blackwall picked it up, having landed closer to him. Instead of handing the brush back to her, he gestured up to her hair with it and asked, “May I?”

A warm feeling spread through her, as it did each time he offered to do such an intimate act. “Please.”

She scooted herself backward, positioning herself with her back to him. She heard further rustling and shifting of sheets behind her as he presumably moved to better position himself behind her. A hand came to rest on her waist, the warmth seeping through the thin material of her dressing gown. His hand stayed there as he started to brush her hair.

There was something she found soothing about having her hair brushed by another. It had been that way when she and her sister would brush and braid each other’s hair (when Ellana’s hair had been down past her shoulders) and it was that way with him. His motions were unhurried, gentle, mindful of tangles. She had been surprised the first time he had done it for her, the ease he seemed to have with brushing another’s hair. Then he told her about how he had brushed his sister Liddy’s hair many a time. He had tried to hide the touch of sadness when mentioning Liddy, but Ellana had still caught it. And Creators knew she understood that sadness all too well.

Once he got through the tangles, Blackwall finished up quickly, handing the brush back to her.

She turned to properly face him as she accepted the brush from his out-stretched hand.

“Thank you.” She leaned in to give him a soft kiss, a faint, quick brush of her lips against his, but Blackwall was intent on not having her break away so soon, pulling her closer with the hand at her waist, the other smoothing back the hair he had already brushed.

Despite knowing she had to get dressed to get a head start on the endless list of things she had to do that day, she still fell into his kiss, wrapping an arm across his shoulders, indulging in the moment.

Eventually, they broke the kiss, but before she could get off the bed, he went back to kissing her, this time on her jaw, then tracing the underside, traveling to her neck, one of the more sensitive parts of her body. Her eyes slipped closed, reveling in the way he slowly trailed kisses down her neck, nose nuzzling the skin with each kiss. She let out a soft moan as he shifted aside the top of her dressing gown to gently bite down on the juncture of her neck and collarbone, soothing the bite with a lave of his tongue before journeying back up.

It felt so good. With his mouth, his tongue, his soft beard. And she knew if he kept up at the rate he was going, there was no chance either of them would be going downstairs anytime soon.

She tugged at the ends of his hair to get him to pull up. “I have to get ready, vhenan,” she said, gently but firmly, summoning all the willpower she had not to give in to those blue eyes of his pulsing with barely restrained desire (Creators, that _she_ could inspire such passion, such desire in him; it was still unbelievable at times).

Seemingly sensing she was determined to maintain her resolve, he placed one final kiss right where the pulse of her neck was. “Something for my lady to think about, then.” He punctuated the statement with a slight nip just below the spot he had kissed. “For later tonight,” he murmured, like a promise, before pulling away.

It took everything she had to get up off the bed, to ignore the dull throb between her legs, and not climb into his lap instead, surrender herself to more of his kisses, his touches, his cock inside her. But she was more determined than ever to finish her tasks and meetings as soon as she could, so they could spend the rest of the time finishing what Blackwall started.


	24. When the Broken Glass Litters the Floor

-24-

Ellana couldn’t remember a time when she had been in such excruciating pain. Or when it had been so widespread. When the mark flared now, the pain went from her hand all the way up to her jaw, with what felt like fire scorching through her bones and muscle tissue. It terrified her, how much the flares had worsened in such a short amount of time. All the exposure and use with ancient Elven artifacts hadn’t helped. The mark always seemed sensitive to them; the orb which had given her the mark was of Elven origin, after all.

She found herself needing to lean against one of the stone pillars after they had taken care of another band of Qunari and their agents, heaving in gulps of air. She had taken a hit to her side, though the pain was nowhere near the level her entire arm and side of her face was in when the mark flared. She fumbled around for a healing potion in her pouch, grimacing as she had to use both hands to undo the clasp.

She took the vial in hand, preparing to pop the cork when she saw the sparks out of the corner of her eye, instantaneously followed by a stronger flare of brilliant green light and the searing pain traveling up her arm that had her crying out and the vial slipping from her hands, it shattering into pieces, the precious elixir spilling to the stone floor. She fell to her knees, clutching at her wrist yet again, as if that would somehow, one of these times, make the pain stop.

“That sounded bad,” she heard Dorian remark concernedly above her before reaching down to help her off the stone floor. He reached into his own pouch for another potion and popped the cork, his hands over her shaking ones to guide the edge of the vial to her lips. “Hold on a little longer, Ellie,” he said as she swallowed the little bit inside, noting an immediate lessening of discomfort in her side, though the potion did little else.

“We need to keep going!” Sera urged, who was just further up ahead. “You can, can’t you? Say you can,” she said, a slight plea in her voice Ellana knew was directed at her.

She nodded her head, trying to reassure the both of them (and Thom who was standing between Sera and her and Dorian, with worry etched on his face) she could carry on, but she doubted it was very convincing. Not when she felt like her feet would collapse underneath her.

“Ah, shit, more comin’!”

Dorian looked down at Ellana, as if for confirmation that she could stand and move on her own again. She nodded, silently urging him to go. He rushed on ahead with Sera and Thom to head off the incoming Qunari. Ellana made to follow them once she thought she had gotten her bearings, but she stumbled on the first step, hitting the floor again, right hand scrapping against a bit of broken glass to break her fall.

“Fenedhis,” she ground out. She tried to pick herself up (she couldn’t be on the floor like this in the middle of a battle, even if she was a bit shielded from immediate sight), but her arms were having difficulty bearing the weight. She could feel herself losing more and more of her strength every time the mark surged. When would be the time it finally sucked all of the strength out of her?

A different pair of arms wrapped themselves around her, Thom’s face peering down at her with such raw emotion she had only seen a handful of times from him. She should have known he wouldn’t have gone far from her, especially now. “I’ve got you, my lady.”

As he helped her up, despite knowing it wasn’t the time to feel it, she couldn’t help the anger and sorrow churning again inside her. As much as she had thought she was resigned to it at the Crossroads, she truly wasn’t. She didn’t want to die. She wanted more time. She wanted a chance to build a life with Thom.

She felt tears prickle the corner of her eyes, right hand clenching, fingernails unintentionally digging into the cut in her palm made by the broken glass, but she paid little mind to the pain. Creators, this wasn’t the time or place for this. Not when they still had to stop the Viddasala. Not when they needed to be fighting alongside Sera and Dorian. “Thom…vhenan…”

“I love you,” he said without falter, Ellana soaking in the comfort those words brought her. He kept an arm around her as he drew up his sword with his free arm, the other holding his shield over her in case any of the Qunari broke away and spotted them before Ellana was ready to move. “And I’m not letting you go. Not yet,” he vowed, as if the will of his words would be enough to keep her there. That everything would turn out ok.

As she finally became functional enough for her and Thom to assist Dorian and Sera with finishing off the latest Qunari between them and ending the Qunari threat, Ellana could only hope by some miracle it would be.


	25. A Kiss of Relief

-25-

Ellana almost fell head first into the carpet after tumbling out of the Eluvian, but Varric caught her arm, stopping her propelling further forward. All of them through, Morrigan sealed the Eluvian closed, with a murmured “It is done,” then started walking to the door along with Varric and Solas. Ellana made to follow suit, but was stopped by a tight grip on her hand.

She allowed the others to go on ahead. She turned to Thom, his helmet already off and in his free hand, but before she could ask what was wrong, he pulled her flush against him, best as he could with his chestplate on, leaning down and kissing her hard with a quick press of his lips on hers. She was too stunned to do more than hold onto his upper arms, her legs quickly becoming wobbly at the forcefulness of his kiss.

“Is this about being last through the Eluvian?” she asked when they broke apart, trying to catch her breath, thinking about what could have prompted such a reaction from him. “I didn’t mean to fall behind again. I just wanted to be sure Corypheus wasn’t following.”

Thom pressed his forehead against hers, breathing just as heavy. “Not just that…I thought you might…” He then kissed her again, a bit softer this time, Ellana practically feeling his relief in the kiss. “Thank you. For not drinking from that well.”

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t relieved at her decision too. The power she had felt from the Well had been unsettling. She hadn’t said anything to the others, but she could sense that there was more than knowledge of Mythal’s servants in the Well (though she doubted that escaped Morrigan, or Solas for that matter). And being bound to Mythal for eternity…even if the gods had no direct interaction with the mortal world, she didn’t want to test her odds. Not after everything she had experienced since the Conclave, not after what she had heard at the Temple, throwing into question what she thought she had known about elven history and lore (which she still didn’t know how to feel or want to deeply think about at the moment).

Regardless, she did debate with Morrigan on the decision. Out of concern for the risk she was willing to undertake, and though Ellana wanted to believe Morrigan’s intentions, she knew there was a more personal motive involved as well, which Ellana was still uncertain of what it was. If they had wanted to be absolutely certain, she should have been the one to do it. As First of a Dalish clan, she could have been just as qualified to obtain and sift through the secrets the well contained.

Ellana wet her thumb, wiping away at the flecks of dried blood at the corner of Thom’s nose. “There was a time I would have. Thought I’d give anything to have such ancient knowledge, paid any price required. But things change.”

Only reaffirmed when Thom had told Ellana that he wouldn’t lose her, to let Morrigan drink from the well instead. Perhaps that made her selfish, not willing to make all the sacrifices so no one else had to. Made her a bad Dalish elf, not willing to take the opportunity to gain knowledge that could be used to help the People, reclaim lost history.

But when she saw the absolute relief on Thom’s face, she couldn’t make herself regret the decision. Not when she was already in constant enough danger, taking enough risks as Inquisitor. Not when she was still needed.

She rested her cheek against the cool metal of his chestplate, cherishing this quiet moment between them. There had been too many close calls that day, for all of them. She had foolishly thought for a fleeting moment the defenses at the temple had done their work for them, taken Corypheus down. Seeing Corypheus rise again from the molded body of a Grey Warden…it hadn’t escaped her how easily that could’ve been Thom if he had…

“I’m glad you aren’t a real Warden,” she admitted. “We were so close to where Corypheus…it could have been you he…” The thought of seeing him twisted into that hideous darkspawn, of having to fight Thom, to _kill him_ , had her hugging him around his armored waist, her now in need of that additional physical contact.

He cupped her head, gloved fingers running through her hair in a soothing circular motion. “Going up against a darkspawn…and the last thing you want is a Grey Warden. Funny how these things happen,” he muttered with a touch of wryness.

Funny indeed, she thought as she held him tighter, and he pressed a lingering kiss into her hair.


	26. Licking your fingers clean of her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated E for smut.

-26-

“Surprised no one…oh, _Creators_ …” Ellana trailed off as his upward thrust met her push downward, presumably hitting that spot inside her that never failed to take her breath away. It took a moment for her to compose herself enough to finish the sentence she had originally been trying to start. “No one’s come up yet. Been close to 12 hours.”

“Defeated Corypheus,” Blackwall replied, slightly breathless, struggling to come up with coherent words. It was difficult to focus on anything other than how snug her cunt felt around his cock. “More than deserve…time alone.”

She let out a small laugh, one that ended in a pleased gasp as she sunk further down on him, leaning her body forward, lips centimeters away from his. “Hardly alone, Thom.”

“Which glad.” He then craned his neck up, meeting her lips, his tongue slowly delving into her mouth, his hands continuing their squeezes of her hips. They broke away for air, her straightening herself up and bracing her hands against his chest as she rode him at a languid pace.

He hadn’t thought they’d go this slow. On their way back to Skyhold, he imagined a coupling much rougher, faster, clothes flying off in a desire to immediately feel naked skin against the other and fucking in a frenzy, the relief setting in that they had both made it. That she had defeated Corypheus without it being at the cost of her own life. But he hadn’t counted on Josephine’s little party or how exhausted the both of them would be once the adrenaline had worn off, which led to a long nap after watching the sun rise over the mountains.

But now, in the moment, watching her move above him, the warm late afternoon sun coming in through the open balcony doors and bathing her in its light, he was content. More than content. 

Ellana’s breathing quickened after a few minutes, a sign she was getting closer. Her left hand went to slowly circle her clit, her right hand still pressing against his chest. Her eyelids fell closed, tongue wetting her lips as a whimper escaped them.

“Thom…” she moaned, looking down at him through half-slit eyes. “Fenedhis, vhenan.”

“That’s it, Ana. Come for me, love,” he said, encouraging her in that lower octave he knew never failed to arouse her further, one of his hands shifting downward, cupping her ass. He could already feel the pressure building in his belly. It wouldn’t be much longer for him either. “Let me feel you come.”

A few more rolls of her hips and rubs on her clit was all it took for her to come, body shuddering and a drawn-out moan leaving her, not bothering to quiet herself, which he never minded (tried to encourage, really) as he could never get enough of hearing the whimpers and moans she made.

She draped herself over him as her body stilled, hands reaching behind for his. He readily compiled, entwining her fingers with his, feeling the slickness of her two fingers. His arms fell beside his head, hands above still holding onto hers as their lips met for a slow, warm kiss and he continued moving inside her, more than ready for that sweet release after feeling her cunt clench around him. Which didn’t take more than a few thrusts, groaning into her mouth as he came, continuing the slow rock of his hips as he rode out his orgasm.

Ellana rolled off of him, letting go of his hands so she could freely snuggle up against his left side. He wiped away at the sweat collecting on his forehead, his nose catching the distinctive slight tang of her on his fingers, from when she had grabbed onto him and from when he had been teasing her earlier. Having not tasted her at all this go around, he took the tips of his fingers into his mouth, tongue eagerly licking up her wetness, savoring the taste of her that he could never seem to get enough of.

Just as he resigned himself to that small taste, Ellana lifted her left hand up to his mouth. Catching her wrist in his hand, he kissed her fingers one by one, sucking at the wet fingers. It made him regret that he hadn’t had his head between her legs at all, but he didn’t think he had it in him to just yet. As Blackwall let go of Ellana’s wrist, placing one last kiss on her palm, and gathered her into his arms, he filed it away as the first thing he’d do when they were ready to ravish each other again.  

After all, at least for now, they had all the time in the world.


	27. Sketch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt "Paint Me"

-27-

It had almost been worth it, the discomfort in Ellana’s neck and shoulders from the continuous staring up she had to do for the past few hours, on top of a growing headache. If only for the fact she could sit in bed, resting against Thom as he attempted to gently knead the tension away.

“A little to the right,” she said, sinking deeper against him, the heat of his skin feeling so good against her own.  

“As you wish, my lady.”

She hissed when his fingers hit the exact spot, but the tendon relaxed rub by gentle rub. “So what did you think?”

Thom’s fingers stilled. “The portrait or the unveiling?”

“Portrait.”

She still couldn’t quite believe there was now a portrait of herself in her Inquisition regalia hanging in the Great Hall. She understood the reason for it; the whole thing had made sense when it was explained to her, to use the portrait as another symbol of her authority (because defeating a centuries-old darkspawn bent on destroying the world hadn’t been enough to earn universal respect, apparently), but it didn’t mean she was entirely comfortable with it, still feeling too much like she was flaunting herself.  

“Likeness is good.” She winced when Thom resumed his ministrations, moving to an even more sensitive spot. “But it still doesn’t do you justice.”

“I don’t look too…severe, do I?” She had never fully understood why the nobles she had seen in portraits looked so cross, until she had to go through the painting process herself. It’d make anyone cross sitting in place for a few hours with the same expression on your face.

“I’d say focused.” Thom paused, then combed through her hair at the back, tucking some strands behind her ear. It was getting longer, back to the length she had had it before she left the clan. The soothing motions made her smile. “But I like you like this. You’re beautiful when you smile.”

Creators, even after more than a year and a half, compliments like that from him still filled her with such warmth. “Should have had you do it. It would have made the whole thing more bearable.”

“Not sure how well it would have turned out. I’ve only ever done the odd sketch.”

She turned on her side, glancing up at him. “Your sketches are wonderful.” He had helped her immensely learning how to better sketch plants and various landmarks (especially at the Frostback Basin). “You’re welcome to try, if you want.”

Thom hummed thoughtfully. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. Question would be whether to do just your face or a full body sketch…”

She picked up on the way his voice lowered ever so slightly. “You’re thinking about sketching me naked, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, his free hand settling further down over her hip. “Can’t say I’d be opposed to that idea either. Though I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t get….” His fingers brushed across her thigh, and she fought back a moan at the familiar sensual touch. “Distracted.”

She propped her hand on his shoulder, using it to lean up and kiss him, intending to shift herself onto his lap, but was forced to pull back when a spasm went through her shoulder blades. “Fenedhis…”

That had Thom’s fingers back at her shoulders and neck, and she leaned her head back against his own shoulder.

“Ir abelas, vhenan.” She was disappointed things ended before they could really get started, but probably for the best with how she was feeling, with the pounding in her head growing a bit worse. She’d have to get up and retrieve her bark if it didn’t alleviate soon.  

“It’s alright, love. We’ll save it for another night, before I leave.”

Her shoulders sagged a bit at that, not wanting to be reminded that he would be leaving Skyhold at the end of the month. But she didn’t say anything. They had already said what needed to be said about it. And she didn’t want to seem selfish at wanting him to stay with her when this was so important to him. 

Instead, she shot him a small smile and said, kissing the side of his neck, “Looking forward to it.”


	28. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated E for smut

-28-

Ellana loved tending to the garden at dusk. It was a time when the garden courtyard grew quieter, people milling about the area beginning to retire to different areas of Skyhold for the night. Though she did see people on evening walks come through, they had been fewer and far between lately. Though the Inquisition had continued to grow since Corypheus's defeat, the number of people who were permanently stationed at Skyhold had begun to noticeably decrease, even among her friends and companions. Not to mention Thom.

She patted down the dirt, reaching for her nearby pail to pour some water on her embriums. Pain shot through her left hand as she tipped the pail forward, faint sparks bursting from the Mark. It fell from her grip, the water spilling onto the ground as she clutched at her wrist, as if that would make the pain in her palm stop.

She was at a loss at what had been causing the Mark to flare up on and off like this, but it was concerning, when it had seemed stable after Corypheus's defeat. She'd have to continue looking into it, hope this didn't mean there was a larger issue.

Somehow she doubted that.

Sighing, she picked up the pail, using her right hand to cup its bottom, and her left wrist to control the amount she poured. It wasn't the smoothest or quickest process, but it prevented her from drowning her plants in water.

Then she heard the crunch of approaching footsteps on the grass, stopping right behind her and she had to fight back a groan. So much for an uninterrupted evening to herself. She wondered who it was. Probably Josephine; she had already sought Ellana out on three different, time-consuming matters throughout the day.

"Josephine, please, can't it wait until tomorrow?" she asked, setting the empty pail down.

"It's not Josephine, my lady."

Her head whipped up at the familiar voice behind her, one she had not heard for close to five months, one whose owner she had not expected to see for a week. She was careful to use her right hand as she stood up, turning around to see that she hadn't imagined it, that her vhenan was truly standing there before her. 

She wasted no time shortening the distance between them, launching herself into Thom's arms. He let out a grunt of surprise, but his arms then came around her waist to crush her against him just as tightly, her feet leaving the ground. Their lips met in a kiss, one which threatened to knock the breath out of her. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck once they pulled away. She could smell the sweat, and horse, and the fact that he hadn't bathed in however many days on him, but she didn't care. Because he was there, with her again.

"I thought you wouldn't be back for another week."

"I was able to book passage back sooner than I thought." Her eyes closed at the familiar act of him brushing her hair from her face. Creators, how she had missed it. Missed him. "Sera said I'd find you out here."

"You're lucky you caught her. She came back for a quick visit, to see Dagna. They've really gotten..." She trailed off, looking up at him and finally catching the dark patch under his eye in the light of the nearby lantern. "Creators, your face!"

"It looks worse than it feels," he tried to assure as she gently ran her fingers over the ugly bruise. "The worst of the swelling's gone down."

"You'll have to tell me what happened. How bad was it? Did anyone else hurt you? Did you find everyone? Did...?"

He stopped her growing rambling with another kiss, pressing his forehead against hers. "Later. Right now, I'm thinking of some other things I'd rather us do."

Her eyes closed again, but this time it had more to do with the sudden wave of longing at the way his voice lowered, the way it spoke of _want_ after five long months away.

"Upstairs, then."

They made their way through the door to the Main Hall, a few people still milling about, but Ellana paid them little mind as they both walked up to the door to her quarters, not at all concerned what any lingering gossip mongers may whisper at the Inquisitor going up to her quarters with her newly returned lover. The guard Tobias leaning against the wall stood at attention, greeting both her and Thom (even welcoming him back without a trace of lingering resentment or disgust towards him) before letting them in. She found herself silently cursing the number of stairs, mind racing to any and all possibilities Thom had in mind for their reunion, the ache growing between her legs with each step.

They were on each other again the moment the door to her quarters shut behind them, mouths meeting in a hot mash-up of wet flesh. Her arms came around his neck as he pressed her against the door.

"Thom..." she moaned when they broke away for air.

"I've missed you, Ana," he said before kissing her again, teeth scrapping against hers, tongue intertwining with hers, as if desperate to taste every inch of her mouth.

Her hand tangled itself in his hair, a bit matted down. "Have to show me...how much you missed me."

The heat in his gaze went straight to her cunt. "I intend to."

They eventually made it up the stairs, leaving a trail of clothing behind them. She was careful to mainly use her right hand to help remove his gambeson and her shirt and breast band, not wanting to risk her left flaring again or him catching a clear glimpse of her palm. She knew he'd stop if he did, and she didn't want that, not now, not when it had been so long since she had felt his skin against hers.

They stumbled over to the area by the fire, which had been freshly lit for her return for the night, continuing with their efforts to remove more clothes. Her fingers brushed against his cock, already half-hard in his smalls. She wrapped her hand around him, slowly stroking up and down from base to tip in a familiar rhythm that never failed to cause him to harden further and have Thom groaning, the pre-come making her fingers slick with each stroke. But she had just started to speed up when she felt his hand around her wrist, causing her to pause.

She looked up at him puzzled, wondering why he wanted her to stop, when he said in a hoarse voice, "On your hands and knees."

Suspecting what he wanted, what he _needed_ , she said as he requested, pulling and kicking off her smalls as she did so against the soft fabric of the rug. Only confirmed when she heard him get down behind her, lips trailing warm kisses up her inner thigh, hands coming to rest on her ass.

She pressed her face into the rug when she felt his tongue tease along the slit of her cunt, muffling the moan when it delved further deeper inside her in a teasing motion.

"So wet. Warm. Taste so fucking good." he murmured before licking and sucking again.

Ellana sunk further down on her elbows, struggling to support her weight. Her head shifted, her left cheek still against the rug, her breath staggering with each swipe of his tongue. Then he flicked his tongue against her clit, sending a pleasurable jolt through her and a cry for _more_. Which he offered, in the form of a hand coming underneath her, thumb rubbing slow circles while continuing to thrust his tongue in and out. At some point, he switched out his tongue for one finger, then two, stretching her out so wonderfully She never did have the best control, and with it having been so long, she was even more so betting on her orgasm hitting her sooner rather than later.

"Fenedhis, Thom...I'm getting closer..."

She couldn't hold back the whine when he paused at her words, pulling his fingers out and her from tipping over that pleasurable edge. "What...?"

"Want to be inside you when you come." A hand pushed just slightly on the small of her back and Ellana took the hint, lowering herself down on her stomach. Soft kisses brushed against her back, painting a wet trail of sticky residue from his beard, up her shoulder blades, the side of her neck. "Ready, Ana?"

She nodded vigorously, not trusting herself to speak. She was eager, as was he. Maybe later she'd want to be in a position where they could see each other better, but all that mattered now was him being inside her in the quickest amount of time possible.

Thankfully, she didn't need to wait long, only a bit more rustling of what sounded like fully removing his trousers and smalls, before she felt the familiar stretch of his cock inside her.

"Creators, yes..." she moaned as Thom adjusted himself, thrust into her deeper, filling her up even more.

He panted against her ear, warm breath tickling the shell. "This what you want, love?"

"Yes, please don't stop!"

His grip on her hips tightened as he started pounding hard from behind, no gentleness in his thrusts. Her fist clutched at the rug for something to hold onto, as she matched his thrusts with her hips. Creators, how had she been without this for five months? How had she thought only her own fingers would be enough to compensate for what pleasure he could give her? How it could match his body now molded to hers, him murmuring into her ear she was certain were dirty things in Orlesian?

She propped herself back on her elbows, needing to give her tender nipples a break from the chafing against the rug beneath her. Thom cupped the side of her face, pausing in his mutterings to tilt it towards him to capture her lips in his. She still didn't care for the taste of herself on him, but she had come to not mind it as much. Not that she would pull away even if she hadn't, not after the amount of time he had been away.  

Thom nestled his head between her shoulder and neck, breath hot and heavy against her skin, not faltering in his rhythm.

Then he intertwined his fingers through hers and squeezed her left hand hard.

It happened so quickly she barely had any time to stop him or hold back the cry, from the pain shooting through her palm, up her fingers and down her wrist.

And to her dismay, Thom halted in place at the sound. "Ana?"

"I'm fine, you can keep going," she tried to assure him, thrusting against him in an attempt to encourage him to keep moving, but even she knew she hardly sounded convincing.

He picked his head up, the arousal in his eyes morphing into concern. "Are you hurt?"

There was no point in lying about it now. "My hand. It flared up on me just before you arrived."

He let go of her hand, which curled into itself, though it hardly did anything to alleviate the pain. He then pulled out of her, feeling empty when he did so. She tried not to feel or look too miserable at ruining their time back together as she sat upright, tucking her knees towards her chest and wrapping an arm around them, gaze locked on her enclosed hand.

Then Thom laid his over it again, more gently this time, coaxing her fingers back.

"Has it happened only the once?" he asked, cradling her hand carefully and protectively, studying the inflamed skin around the Mark.

She shook her head, still not able to meet his eyes. "On and off, since I went and closed that rift at the Frostback Basin."

"That was over two months ago, my lady," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes." She didn't know what else she could say to that.

"Have you told anyone about this?"

Her silence spoke more volumes than any words she could have said.

"You could have told me. You didn't have to suffer alone."

She finally looked up at him. "I didn't for the same reason you didn't tell me about this." She ran her hand over the bruise on his face. "I didn't want anyone to worry if it was nothing."

"My face will heal. Your hand...if it's been getting worse..."

"I don't know that it is." Which _was_ true. She didn't know for sure. But given the number of flare-ups in a row were continuing to grow, it was more than likely.

He gingerly rotated her hand so the back of it faced him, allowing him to rub his thumb along her knuckles. "If you need me to stay here..."

She immediately shook her head. "No. You need to go find the rest of your men." This was exactly why she hadn't wanted to tell him. Though she would love nothing more than for him to not leave her side so soon, she didn't want him to feel obligated to put aside finding the remaining members of his company, not when she knew what it meant to him. "I'll..."

She was about to say she would be fine, but she had no idea if she would either. And the thought of such uncertainty, the possibility of the Mark becoming as volatile and life-threatening as it had been when she had first received it, began to truly hit her.

Thom cupped her cheek, which she instinctively pressed against his palm, cherishing the way it felt in his hand. "Ana..."

She reached back up, gently running her fingers over his face again. Overcome with the urge to be as close as possible to him again, she climbed into his lap. He didn't say anything, didn't question it; his other hand came to rest on her hip to hold her steady. He kept his gaze on her as her lips followed the path her fingers had made, planting soft, tiny kisses over the bruise, then to his eyelids, his forehead, his misshapen nose ridge and tip, his cheeks, finally ending at his mouth.

The kiss started out soft and slow, only to quickly deepen. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her closer, breasts now pressed against his chest. One kiss quickly turned to two, then three, until she lost track and all she could feel was the growing ache inside her cunt again, and him responding against her, too.

Staying in his lap, she reached down and guided herself onto him, eyes closing at his cock filling her again. Unlike their previous movements, they now moved slowly and languidly as if wanting to drag out the time they were connected like this.

Ellana found herself tipped back a bit, so Thom could place kisses across her collarbone, the tops of her breasts. She tugged at the ends of his hair when he finally took a nipple into his mouth. After taking his sweet time, he released it with a pop, his kisses going straight back up her body until he reached her lips again.

"I love you," he said, the words tumbling out of him in a quick breath against them. "My Ana..."

She pressed her forehead against his, once again so thankful that he had come into her life those three years ago in the Hinterlands. "Ar lath ma, vhenan."

No further words passed between them, intent on resuming the chase towards that release which had been previously denied them. Their movements were steady, up until the end, rhythm faltering as Thom came first, hugging her even closer with no space between them and burying his face into her shoulder, his groan reverberating against her skin. She was not much farther behind, rubbing her clit, shuddering as she came with a gasp of his name.

They fell back onto the rug, Ellana's back to the fire, head tucked against the crook of his shoulder, her left hand resting over his heart. She wasn't sure how long they'd lay there (the fire was quite warm on her); she knew she needed to get someone to help prepare a bath, talk more about his travels and her hand, tell him about the growing tension with the nobility of Ferelden and Orlais about the Inquisition’s power and influence. But for the moment, she had no inclination to move or speak. Not when Thom had his arm around her waist, seemingly intent on still keeping her close as possible. Not when he had his own hand covering hers, gently stroking the tops of her fingers.


	29. Take My Hand

-29-

The Empress spared no expense, setting her up in one of the nicest guest rooms the palace had to offer for the night. Or so the steward claimed as he led Ellana and Blackwall to the room. She couldn’t tell what made the room any more opulent or grandiose than the others they had seen that night once they entered it, seemingly possessing similar decorations and furnishings, but she chose not to say anything, instead thanking the man and informing him she required nothing further.

Ellana found herself drawn to the mountain view outside the window, leaning her newly mask-free head up against the glass. She could faintly pick up the music from below, from the party still going on without them.

She should have felt more accomplished than she did. They had stopped Florianne, saved Empress Celene’s life without it turning into an all-out massacre. They could even take Florianne back to Skyhold for further questioning, maybe learn more about Corypheus’s plans. She had even won over approval from the court despite her supposed inferior heritage and whispers of “knife-ear” she had caught earlier in the evening.

But all she felt was drained, after all the fighting prior to confronting Florianne, after playing that fenedhis Game. She couldn’t imagine an entire lifetime of that, of hiding behind a mask.

A gentle brush of fingers against the side of her face brought her back from her thoughts. “Ana?”

She glanced up at Blackwall’s questioning face, thankfully no longer obstructed by a mask. She suspected he was as glad to rid himself of it as she was. “Can hear the music from here. It’s still nice.”

He hummed, still running his ungloved fingers across her skin. “Speaking of…we never did have our dance.” He paused. “Unless you’re still not up for it?”

She shook her head. “No…I’d like that.”

Out on the balcony, she had just wanted a chance to breathe, to rest before having to go back into the hall and be forced to socialize with those who wanted to speak with the mighty Inquisitor who had saved the Orlesian Empire from ruin. But now she was finally removed from it all, in a room to themselves where no one could see or interrupt this moment between them.

He pulled his hand away, then offered it to her palm up like he had on the balcony, body in a slight bow. “May I have this dance, then, my lady?”

Ellana nodded, a faint smile growing on her face.

“Take my hand.”

She removed her gloves, sitting them down on the dresser beside her, wanting to feel the roughness of his hand on her skin, not through a layer of glove. Her hand clasped around his, the other rested on his arm while his free hand settled on her waist.

She had practiced the movements with Josephine and Vivienne in the weeks prior, determined she wouldn’t give any of the Orlesian nobles the satisfaction of seeing her stumble and fall flat on her face in front of all the court. Just enough to have an idea of what to do. But she was surprised to see how easily Blackwall moved, as fluidly as Vivienne had showed her how.  

“I didn’t know you danced.”

He didn’t quite look her in the eye as he replied, the slightest strain in his voice, “I did once, in another life.”

And there it was again, the tension whenever he alluded to his past, another vague statement with no further elaboration. Just like when she had asked about the Silverite Wings of Valor. But now was not the time she wanted to press. Nor did she still feel she was in a real position to prod about horrible things that had happened in his past he’d rather forget happened. Not when she felt the same way about what happened with her sister.

She knew the day would come when they’d both feel comfortable talking. For now, she was content with that day coming a bit later, just focusing on the two of them dancing, until they ended up swaying in a mindless rhythm in each other’s arms, her head cushioned against the crook of his shoulder as he held her securely against him.


	30. Library

-30-

Blackwall finally found her in a library tucked away in the lower hallway past the kitchens. Cobwebs clung to the floor to ceiling shelves, with a large desk at its center, a massive grimoire propped up on top surrounded by other books and two down to the stub lit candles, a musty smell lingering in the air. Ellana was off to the side, standing on a chair, skimming through one of the many books the library seemed to offer. She didn't look up as he stepped into the room, seemingly enraptured with whatever she was reading.

He cleared his throat. "My lady?"

She startled at the sudden noise, clutching at the back of the chair for support. Her gaze then landed on Blackwall and she relaxed. "Oh, Blackwall! I didn't even hear you come in." Then a wide, wondrous smile broke out on her face, gesturing around her. "Look at all this! I can't believe I didn't find this before. To have two libraries...!"

He rounded the desk. "Find anything interesting?"

"What _didn't_ I find interesting? There are books here that date back to the Divine Age! My clan has a few old texts that have been passed down generations, but this...I never thought I would live somewhere with so many books!"

It was a rarity to see her so visibly excited about something. Even with her covered from head to toe with patches of dust, he thought her a beautiful sight at the way her entire face, particularly her eyes, lit up so fervently.

He offered her hand to help her down, and she took it almost immediately, clutching it firmly as she hopped down, dusty book tucked to her chest. But she didn't let go of his hand even once her feet were planted firmly on the floor. Ellana tilted her head up, as if she were moving to kiss him,  but then her gaze ducked away from his and her face began to turn the slightest shade of red. There was a moment of hesitation from him too, on what type of kiss to give her (Maker, he felt like an inexperienced teenager again). Their relationship was barely twenty-four hours old, and Blackwall could count on one hand the number of women he had a relationship which meant something beyond a quick tumble or two. 

Blackwall settled on cupping her cheek, running his thumb along her vallaslin as he gently tugged her closer, planting a soft kiss on her lips. Maker, the way her smile grew after they pulled away, like he was the best thing that ever happened to her...it made him feel lighter in a way he hadn't felt in a long time (even though he _knew_ in his heart of hearts he didn't deserve it).

"So what brings you by?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Right. Why he was there in the first place. "Josephine was looking for you. Something about an advisor meeting."

Her face fell at the mention. "Oh, Creators, I forgot...I got so side-tracked." She then sighed, looking a bit disappointed. "I shouldn't have spent so much time in here. Not when there are more important things I need to do."

Blackwall realized the disappointment was aimed more at herself rather at her time being cut short in the library. "No one could fault you for taking a bit of time for yourself, my lady. You've been working hard since we've gotten here." Really since Haven.

Ellana gave a small, appreciate smile, but still did not seeming entirely placated. "I should go find her." A bit of shyness crept back onto her face. "Will I still see you later tonight, vhenan?"  

It had slipped out in a just awaking murmur, her inviting him to stay in her quarters with her (not just for the one night). At first, he had been reluctant to take her up on it, not wanting her reputation to be tarnished by people seeing him come up to her quarters nightly or leaving them daily come morning. But he was a weak man (he had already established that the night before), and when she had insisted that she didn't care about that, that she would like it if he did, he found it difficult to say no.

He kissed her gloved knuckles, which had her smiling at the gesture. "Of course, my lady."

The thought crossed his mind as he watched her leave that he could surprise her, clean this place up a bit for her. As he left the room a moment later to go meet up with Sera, he mentally added it to his chore list for the next, few days. It would be worth it to see that excited light in her eyes again.


	31. Going Somewhere?

-31- _  
_

The torrential rain seemed to be following them on their way back to Skyhold, never letting up in ferocity for even a moment’s time. Ellana was thankful they could finally stop somewhere for the night in an actual inn, sheltered from the whipping of the cold wind, sleeping in constantly damp clothing. There was only so much heat she could generate before depleting her mana, and she never wanted to risk doing so too often, in case she needed her magic in an emergency.

Once in their room for the night, Ellana and Thom wasted no time shedding their wet clothing. She practically sighed in relief at her soaked shirt no longer clinging to her body, the cold seeping into her skin. They climbed into the bed, just barely large enough for the two of them to share, with some shards of straw stuffing sticking out and poking her in the leg. Even more of a reason to curl up against each other. 

Though his skin wasn’t nearly as warm as it usually was, she still pressed the side of her face into the crook of his neck. It was quiet between them, but Ellana didn’t mind. She had come to greatly cherish these moments of quiet domesticity with Thom. Pretend she still wasn’t Inquisitor and demands weren’t still being made on her time. Pretend they hadn’t spent over a week down in the Deep Roads, fighting darkspawn and demons and ogres and a rock-lyrium creature serving as some guardian for the titan they had managed to find themselves in. She could only hope Valta knew what she was doing. But Ellana had to put that worry aside. They had accomplished what they’d set out to do, stopping those earthquakes. There was nothing more they could do for now.

She was glad to be out of there. Not seeing the sky or natural light for more than a week had been unsettling. Honestly, the entire journey had been a difficult one, from the moment they stepped foot off that lift that took them underground. No sooner had they arrived than another earthquake hit and they encountered an ogre. One which had nearly beat Thom to a pulp. They had had to rest for over an entire day before Ellana could be satisfied he was fit to travel and fight.

She propped herself up by the elbow, unable to help running her fingers along the side of Thom’s face, over the slowly fading wound, in a gentle caress.

Thom’s eyes lazily opened, watching her with languid interest. “See something you like, Ana?”

She laughed softly, now tracing along his cheek. “Always, vhenan.” 

Ellana had always been captivated by his face, particularly around his eyes. Perhaps because it was the most expressive part of him. Even when he had his secrets, even when he tried to close himself off, his eyes would always reveal something. They had caught her attention even the first time they met, when he spoke of how Grey Wardens could inspire people, make them think themselves better than they were. She hadn’t understood, but with his reveal, she now knew the reason for the pain behind his eyes, the shame and worthlessness he felt towards himself for his actions. At his judgment, and in the weeks of reconciliation that followed, he laid everything bare before her. The pain, the regret, the anger, the disgust, yet mingled with the love he felt for her, the hope they could make things work between them again, that he could find redemption at her side.  

Thom reached for her hand, the kiss on her knuckles bringing her back. She leaned over to kiss him in reply, meaning it to be a soft brush of the lips. But she found herself unwilling to pull away, from the first, _real_ kiss they’d shared since they left Skyhold. And judging by the way Thom’s arm curled itself around her, neither did he.

So she wasn’t surprised when she eventually felt herself being pulled on top of him, straddling his waist on either side of him.

Even though it had been since they’d left Skyhold, they found themselves in no rush. They took their time, extending the pleasure they could give the other. She eventually ended up on her back, watching Thom move above her. And when her release finally came, it hit her like a crashing wave, leaving her breathless and boneless against the bed, no longer feeling as chilled as before.

He rolled off to the side, gasping for air as much as her. With more effort than she would have liked to expend, she pressed her marked hand against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with each deep breath before resting it against the black and blue -with a tint of yellow- bruise on his side, also courtesy of the ogre, gently rubbing it. She smiled contentedly when he cradled her face in his hand, pressing his head against hers.

When she finally felt she could move again, she attempted to get herself up, over to the water basin and rags on the table. But Thom draped his arm across her waist, though in such a light grip she could’ve easily moved it if she wanted to.

“Going somewhere, love?”

A pleasurable shiver went down her spine at his lowered voice, what that usually preluded. He typically wasn’t ready again so soon, and she wasn’t sure if she would be either.

“Just to clean-up,” she said, looking at him, trying to get a read on him, what he was thinking.

The clear look of _want_ still in his eyes told her what she needed to know, but if there was any doubt, his next words confirmed it.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Before she could say anything more, he began planting kisses above her breasts, on her stomach, understanding filling her as to what exactly he had in mind. And as his kisses began to trail further and further down, she lost herself over to his touches and kisses once more.


	32. Peace

-32-

Ellana only looked back once.

She had already taken in everything one last time the night before.

Until Skyhold, she’d never had anywhere she could claim root to as her home, her clan never staying in one place more than a few weeks at a time. But it had been that, to all of them in the Inquisition for the past three and a half years.

And yet she harbored no regrets, long ready to leave her duty as Inquisitor behind her. Not unofficially, perhaps; they could not forget about whatever Solas had planned. But she was also determined to build a life beyond constant duty, a life with the man riding beside her.

Ellana felt a gentle grip come over her hand once she faced forward again. She squeezed Thom’s hand back, sending him a reassuring smile.

Whatever peace there was to be had in the coming years, she knew it was with him.

So long as they were together, she was home.


	33. Stairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated E for smut.

“Hey, Beardy, you here? Drinks at the tavern, remember?” Sera’s voice rang out below them.

The noise startled Ellana out of the pleasurable haze she had lost herself in, biting her lip to hold back a moan at Thom pausing mid-thrust, trying to focus on anything other how full she felt with him inside her.

“You sure he isn’t already there, Buttercup?”

She tensed at the crunching footsteps, the creak of the stairs on the bottom step; Ellana caught Thom’s wide-eyed glance over to the landing at the other end of the loft. She didn’t dare move, as the rustling against the hay would be enough to give them away. Her and Thom weren’t completely unclothed, but enough was pulled away and pushed aside –not to mention the obvious of Thom resting over top her- for Sera and Varric to know what the two of them were doing. Sera would never let it go, and Ellana was sure she wouldn’t be able to look Varric –or Sera, really- in the face for weeks, months, maybe forever.

But they were saved by the arrival of Dennet, who said he thought he saw Thom leave already when asked by Varric.

“Creators, that was close,” she breathed with a sigh of relief once all three of their footsteps and voices faded away, pressing her face into Thom’s clothed shoulder.

“Nervous, Ana?”

Ellana gave him a playful shove at the laughter in his voice. “Don’t pretend you weren’t too.” 

The ache in her cunt quickly returned, reminded that Thom was still inside her. She clutched at his hip, pushing it forward, feeling a sense of freedom at being able to let out even a soft gasp at his cock brushing up against that sensitive spot inside her. “We still have time?”

He let out a dirty chuckle, the warmth of his breath brushing against her head, already back to thrusting his hips. “Of course, love.”


	34. Seasick

**-34-**

Thom had seen Ellana’s face change a variety of shades over the years. But this was the first time he could honestly say it had taken on an unhealthy green pallor.

“Creators, will this ship ever stop rocking?” she asked, voice a desperate moan, head resting against her drawn up knees.

Thom pulled out the wet cloth he had dunked inside the basin of water. “Once the rain and wind stop, it should be smoother sailing.” Though he had strong sea legs and constitution, even he was starting to feel a bit unsteady and the slightest of headaches from the jostling of the choppy sea.

He set himself down beside her, sinking slightly as the cot sagged with the additional weight. “Here. Pull your hair back.”  

Ellana’s hand guided her hair aside enough for him to carefully lay the cool cloth on the back of her neck, tucking the ends inside her shirt.

“I hope this works fast, at least takes the edge off.” Ellana let go of her hair. “Can’t remember how long it takes.”

“Need me to get the bucket?”

“You joke,” Ellana said with a weak smile, clearly catching the slight tease in his voice. “But you won’t be if I throw up all over the floor.” She clutched at her head with the only hand left to her, violently rubbing at her forehead. “Or ourselves. Why did I agree to this again?”

He reached out to still her hand. “Hang in there, love. Just a day til we reach Kirkwall.”

“Then I’m never stepping foot on another boat again,” she replied, voice strained, as if at the thought of being trapped on board for that long.

“How’d you even manage to cross the Amaranthine Ocean last time?”

“Not well. I was trapped in the hold, with two dozen others at least. I didn’t have the luxury of a private room. The Keeper had to basically barter her way to get me on. Between the smell of being trapped in that confined space for a week and that storm, it was a miracle I didn’t throw up.”

Ellana finally straightened her head up, slowly tilting it towards him. “What’s worse was the water sloshing on deck made its way down into the hold. I couldn’t sleep at all that night, afraid I’d wake up floating in water.”

Then a sudden pained light filled her eyes. Something told Thom it didn’t have to do with her head.

“And all through that storm, I couldn’t help thinking of Bri. What it must’ve felt like when she…if that would happen to me.”

He wondered if that was part of the reason for her trepidation about going to Kirkwall by boat. Had she been thinking of her sister during this storm too?

Careful not to suddenly jostle her head, Thom put his arm around her, guiding her to his side. Ellana immediately followed, resting her head against his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss against her hair. “Sorry.”

“I’ll be alright, vhenan,” she said with soft reassurance. “All storms pass eventually.”

The roar of the wind outside preceded the rocking of the ship, causing Thom to clutch onto the cot to keep from moving. Or more importantly, to keep Ellana from moving. His efforts were only partly successful, still rocking back and forth. She let out a pained groan, taking in heavy breaths and squeezing her eyes shut.

“I’ve got you, my lady.” He rubbed his thumb against her sweaty temple, hoping that would help as it had in the past. “I’ve got you.”

As he sat listening to the strike of the rain and whistle of the wind, and Ellana’s slowing breathing, a stray thought popped into his head, the other technique that seemed to soothe her during bad migraines.

“Would it help to lean back?”

Ellana glanced up at him. “You sure? Can’t promise I won’t throw up on you.”

He brushed strands of her hair aside, cupping the side of her face. “It’s worth the risk.”

At her brief nod, Thom moved them both further up the cot until his back was pressed against the wall. He took great care as they shifted themselves around just like before, eventually ending up with her sitting between his legs and her head resting securely against the crook of his neck.

Ellana’s hand found one of his, lacing their fingers, rings softly clinking together. “Thank you, vhenan.”

Thom brushed his lips against her head in reply, determined to provide whatever she needed until she felt better. Whether continuing to massage her temple and forehead, distracting her with whatever stories he could come up with, or rubbing her back and cleaning themselves up when -as predicted- Ellana didn’t make it to the bucket in time.

After every storm they had weathered together, he wouldn’t do anything less than helping to see her through this one too.


	35. Gray

**-35-**

The third grumble had Ellana picking up her head from the report she had been skimming. "Everything alright, vhenan?"

"Everything's fine."

She set the parchment down, pushing herself up from the couch to approach Thom, who was standing, bare from the waist up, in front of the mirror propped against the wall on the dresser. "That doesn't sound very convincing."

Ellana closed the distance between them, standing at his side. She took note of the scissors still in his hand, resting on the dresser top, his other running through his beard, frowning and staring sullenly at his reflection as he leaned in close. "What's wrong?"

He finally sighed, letting go of the scissors and his beard. "It's nothing. Just something that shouldn't be upsetting me."

"Yet it still seems to be." Her hand rested on his forearm while the other reached up, combing her fingers through his hair and beard in gentle, stroking motions. "Tell me."

His shoulders slumped in an air of defeat. "It's...this." He halted, as if unable to get the words out, then gestured to his head. Which led her to realize what the issue was when she ran over the gray at the roots of some strands.

"I still think it makes you look distinguished," she said, trying her best to be reassuring. And it was the truth. She really did think it looked good on him.

Thom reached for her hand, stilling her combing movements. "It makes me look old, Ana." He let go of her hand with an disgruntled puff of air and moved away from her, towards the bed. "I shouldn't be getting upset about this."

Perhaps Blackwall shouldn't be. But Thom Rainier? From what she had heard about the person he had been before, he had been vain about his appearance. Always well-put together, looking himself over. Any sign of a gray hair would have been unacceptable to the likes of Captain Rainier.

And from the few times they’d talked about it, she knew that any remainder of his age in contrast to her own, that there was over a decade separating them in years, bothered him. Had even before his flight to Val Royeaux.

She followed him over, setting herself down beside him on the edge of the bed. Ellana reached out again, stroking along the side of his face. "I don't think less of you for it," she murmured.

Thom sighed, a deep heaving sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body. "I know," he said, yet he couldn't quite meet her eyes.

Ellana frowned at his persistent despondence. Before he could say anything, she climbed into his lap, knees on either side of his thighs, supporting herself with steady hands on his shoulders. She felt his hands rest on her waist, not saying a word.

"Can you still hold a sword and shield, and fight on the battlefield?" She resumed her motions against his face, combing through his hair. "Can you still dodge an enemy? Can you still lift heavy things?"

Ellana didn't wait for his answer, or even a nonverbal response, moving to gently press her lips against his, then whispering into his ear. "Can you still take me hard against the bed?"

She felt his sharp intake of breath against her hair. The grip on her waist tightened as she began planting soft kisses across his face, ending once more at his lips, those kisses slow and teasing. He let out a soft groan as she ground herself further into his lap.

“Careful, love, or I might just have to show you how _hard_ I can be,” he murmured against her lips.

Ellana pressed her forehead against his. “So show me,” she said just as softly.

No sooner did the words leave her than she ended up sprawled out on her back. And as Thom eagerly pulled aside her dressing gown, exposing her skin to the cool air and his warm lips, her fingers threading themselves in his hair, no further talk passed between them until much, _much_ later.


End file.
